I like it here.

I love the rhythmic clank of buttons hitting the side of the dryer as my jeans dry and the machine spins. I can hear it from my bed.

Leaning against the back of my book shelf, right by my favorite yellow book, are the only paintings we've painted together. He's color blind and hence artistic. You could say he's uninhibited by color.

My clothes are draped nicely over cupboard doors that are built into my bedroom wall. I don't like clothes on the floor in my room, but I don't have time to hang all of my clothes every time I get undressed. Right? I don't have time? No, I don't have the patience.

A stained glass star drops from a nail in the wall directly across from where I sit in my bed. I like the blue shadow cast by the star best of all.

I leave the light bulbs on my ceiling light fixture naked. I like them better that way. They're brighter that way.

A striped pillow case. A half-eaten, melted, and re-hardened 70% cocoa bar. A silk scarf draped around the neck of my bed lamp. Three hat boxes filled with pencils, belts, and hats respectively.

The old fashioned clock that I never start because it ticks too loudly.

My grandma's big dresser mirror is dusty, but I'm glad it is. My sister's fingertip wrote and drew messages in the dust. From the angle here in my bed, I notice that she drew a heart with initials-- it should be carved in an aspen tree.