In My Room

Song: Imagination - Shiloh Dynasty

It’s no coincidence that I named this part of my diary “In My Room.” It’s inspired by my room, which doesn’t exist anymore, but I often go back there in my mind.

My room was small, and at first dark and sad. I only had a brown cabinet, a tiny brown table, ugly red curtains, and an annoying yellow lamp. Over time, I changed it. I got a new desk, dark blue curtains, a black rug, a white wardrobe, a big mirror, a rocking chair. I added candles and plants on the windowsill, hung fake leaves above the bed, decorated my desk, and put posters and pictures of my favorite artists on the walls. I filled it with my energy, with the things that made me feel alive. It started to reflect me so completely that whenever I walked in, it felt like I was coming back to myself.

It wasn’t just the things that reflected me. As I changed, the room changed too. It became full of my thoughts, my feelings, my silence - and in it, I could get lost and find myself at the same time.

My room wasn’t just a room - it felt like a friend, a shield. In it, I could be myself, dream, hope, laugh, pray for peace. I also cried there. I was someone who used to be afraid to cry, not because anyone could see my weakness, but because crying felt shameful. I will never forget one night, sitting at my desk, thinking that this is my personal space, my own world, and there’s no reason to be ashamed. There, I could show what I felt, let my emotions be free, and the room kept them safe. There I learned that crying isn’t shameful or wrong. It was the place where I learned to show myself and accept every version of me.

I spent so much time there. It had seen me through everything. I was myself in the purest sense, without worrying, without hiding. I loved opening my diary and pouring my thoughts and feelings onto the pages. I loved taking out my brushes and paints and painting. I loved rainy days - lighting a candle from the windowsill and diving back into writing or painting. I loved nights too - staying up late, scrolling on Pinterest, listening  to music, doing face masks… all of it was mine, quiet and safe.

When the moment came to close its door forever, it was one of the most emotional moments I’ve ever had. Days before, I kept thinking about how in that tiny room, I had so many memories - good and bad, but all mine. Every person, every experience that brought happiness or sadness had left its mark there. The room had become my world, where everything from my life reflected, just as it reflected in me.

Only if I could go back there again, to open its door once more…

With love,

Chrissy