I lost my life when I lost my room 

To whoever thinks a room is just a four-walled space in the house, I wholeheartedly disagree.

To me it was always more than just a place to sleep. It was a place to pretend to sleep. There are nights when sleep won’t come and there are also nights when it is unwelcome, either way, my room served as the perfect hiding place. It was a place that knows no time. It doesn’t force me to do anything because it is what’s expected of me.

My room was the only one who saw the smile painted on my face vanish ever so quickly the moment I close the door. It was a silent witness to my stifled cries. It does not ask me to ‘stop’ and ‘move on’. It just lets me cry until I’m too tired. It welcomed the angry punches I throw in its walls until my fists bleed. It did not protest.

I can write peacefully in my room because it is where I can be completely alone in my thoughts. It is where I can be truly honest without feeling sorry about it.

It is the one who hears my sleep talks and quiet conversations with myself without receiving ‘the look’. I can dance or lie on the floor without being told to stop.

I can make songs and sing out of tune. It was the very first audience to my self-composed songs. I even think it feels proud that after all the procrastination and monotonous tunes, I am able to make one. I can almost hear it sigh or maybe just because it thinks the worst is finally over.

It is the one who welcomes me without asking too many questions that I don’t know the answer to. It does not judge me at all.

And now it is gone, due to unfortunate events. I feel like mourning for my long-time companion. I miss it. I miss its quiet presence. I almost think I took  it for granted.

Being alone in my room makes me feel like watching my life unfold in its self. Without pressure, without prejudice, without time limits and expectations, it just lets me unravel my life. It gives me freedom in its truest form. Sometimes I wish to expand it to Earth’s size so everyone  can feel it too. But just like most good things, it came to its end.

So when I lost it, I felt lost too. I lost my room and I am mourning for it and for myself. I want it back. I lost my life when I lost my room.

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