Thoughts Room

a person’s own room is a world in itself. thoughts, ideas, concepts, reflections, and suchlike all take shape in such peculiar, morbid, unique ways. sometimes they fester, other times blossom, or are covered like wood; shaped like wet dark clay in your hands as you struggle to form what you couldn’t—can’t—put in words. everything is simultaneously so sentimental, so mundane, so gratifying, so crude. you reminisce on the memories you’ve created here, the decorations that are positioned in that spot of the room or taped on that angle on the wall placed up to express the small cornerstones of the persona you’ve built up to in your lifetime. maybe there’s a miniscule crack in the wall; a lean in the tie-backs that hold up the curtains and that’s ok. it’s all you in the end, anyway.

— thoughts from inside my room, m.s.