In Her Room

**This is a paper I wrote for my english class. The class is a college course, so I would like some feedback on how it sounds, and if it is college worthy.** She lies in her bed and thinks about her life. Does her bedroom tell who she really is? The door is closed. She is hiding in here. It is sort of her sanctuary. There is a mirror next to the door. It needs to be hung on the wall so that she can see her face. But for some reason she doesn’t take the time to do that. Maybe she doesn’t want to look in the mirror and face herself. She doesn’t think that anyone understands who she is. But she doesn’t want them to. Her emotions are a secret.
She looks over to her window sill. There is a picture of her as a little girl, so innocent and unaware of her future. She started hiding her feelings when she was young. She felt that she needed to be the strong one. Dad was sick and mom did her best. Her little sister needed someone to look up to for strength. So she was brave as her family went through tough times. She seemed to think that it was up to her. Someone needed to keep everything together, so she did. She learned to be good at helping others and not burdening them with her problems. After all, her troubles were never as important as everyone else’s. Today she is trying to share more, but not with her family. Mom is sick and she needs to be strong for her family again. But there seems to be someone in her life that she can talk to.
She rolls over on her bed and looks at her wall. In glow-in-the-dark paint there is a secret message. It states, “I love you.” It’s from him. He is the man that she can turn to when things look down. She is glad that there is finally someone that can help her. She can talk to him about anything. He tells her that everything will be all right. She is not so sure though.
As she looks at the college catalogs all over her floor, she wonders what is out there for her. There are many options for her—private, Christian colleges, public colleges, community colleges. But she does not want to go to college. She cannot figure out what major she would like. She wants to be a librarian or an art restorer. But most of all she wants to be a mom. When she imagines herself spending the next four years stuck in a classroom, it is agonizing. But her parents want her to go, and he wants her to go. She doesn’t completely understand why her parents want her to go so bad if they cannot afford it. But they want her to seize the opportunities that they passed by. Someday she will have children though, and she wants to be able to provide for them. She wants her children to be proud of their mommy. She will go for them, but she can’t think of reasons to go for herself. She lacks motivation. It seems like she lacks motivation for everything lately.
Her school books are sitting in the corner of her room under a sweatshirt. She just cannot bring herself to open them up and read. What’s the point? Everything that she reads is forgot immediately. She doesn’t seem to comprehend it. But she does want motivation. She wants to walk up in front of her parents and receive her high school diploma. She wants them to be proud of her.
She looks around her room again. She sees the used Kleenex on her floor next to the bed. She was crying last night. She does that a lot lately, but only in here. Her bedroom is her escape. She takes comfort in the items in here. She can sit at her computer and play a game while listening to music. The music drowns out her thoughts. Her CD tower is filled with a variety of music. Backstreet Boys were her first CD, a band that was popular at the time. The Beach Boys CD was from a report she did in eighth grade. Avril Lavigne and Nelly Furtado are from days when she needed ‘girl power’ music. As she is sitting here on her bed, she looks next to her at her stuffed monkey. He is as old as her. She holds him as she falls asleep each night. She needs something to hold onto when she is completely vulnerable.
Above her bed is her birth announcement. She wonders why she has this in here. She reads the date—November second, nineteen eighty-five. She will be eighteen shortly. She will be free. She thinks that she is ready for this. She wants to move out on her own, to get away from all of this. But she doesn’t want to forget. There is a box of pictures next to her. She thumbs through them, remembering where and why each one was taken. She is smiling in most of them, but she realizes that a lot of them were fake smiles. She wishes that the future smiles captured on film will be genuine. She really does want to be happy. The pill bottle on the shelf is going to help with her depression and make her happy again. But will this be a fake happy too? She longs to be real, to be loved, and to be alive. Not physically alive, because she is, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.
She glances over at her closet. Her shoes are designer brands. Her clothes allow her to fit in anywhere. There are various colors and styles of clothing. She dresses to impress. But impress who? She wants to impress the world! She wants them to all want her and admire her. She wants a name for herself. She would like to be famous, not for being pretty or anything superficial, but for loving others. One of her favorite things to do is love others. She loves to volunteer for everything and to help everyone.
While she looks in her closet, she sees a box full of her stuff. She moved downstairs to this room a few months ago. She was trying to get as far away from her family as she could. The box hasn’t been unpacked yet. She doesn’t want to unload all of her things into her new room because she doesn’t want this to be her permanent residence. She wants to leave this house soon.
There is a collection of glass bottles on her shelf. She has been collecting these for years now. There is no reason behind this assortment. None of them are alike though, all of them unique. She likes that about them; she is unique.
Next to her bottles is a calendar. This calendar is special, meant to be used over and over again year after year. She reads the inspirational thoughts on its pages every day. Once in a while on will catch her attention and apply to her day. She loves when this happens. She looks above her window. She has painted her own inspirational thought there. It reads, “Live well. Laugh often. Love much.” She believes in those words with her whole heart, but she does not follow them to the ‘T’. She laughs, but not often enough. She does love many with all of her being. But she doesn’t live well. By living well, she needs to live for herself.
She hears a noise. Her alarm clock is going off; it must have been set wrong. She has two alarm clocks in her room, and one is set twenty minutes ahead. She needs extra help getting out of bed in the morning, because she doesn’t always see the point.
The clock on her cell phone reads 1:53am. She is getting tired, but she is waiting for a call. She picks up her health homework and fills out her stress journal. Stress is a common word in her vocabulary. Her homework asks her to record one of her stressors from the day. “Life” is what she wants to write. When she finishes, it is twenty minutes later. The call never came, and tonight she feels alone again.
She turns off the lights and crawls into bed. The glow-in-the-dark stars on her walls remind her of the sky. She closes her eyes, covers her head, and falls asleep.
The next morning she awakens. She looks around her room again as she stands up. She walks over to the mirror on the floor and props it up on a box. As she looks herself in the eye she hears “Lullaby” playing on the radio. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”