My Room Anonymous

It was 11:30 on a chilly Thursday night, and I was taking a brief stroll through my neighborhood. My mind swarmed with overwhelming thoughts concerning school, parents, and most of all, the college application. I had been tirelessly trying to 'find myself' over the past few months, but to no avail. As I continued walking through the quiet streets, I knew that I only had generic descriptions of myself, descriptions only worthy enough to put in a shabby singles ad. Chuckling at my exasperation, I turned the corner and suddenly found myself staring at the rear end of my house. I was standing on the sidewalk, viewing my house from a distance, and my eyes lingered on the only room in the house that was lit up: my study room. In the darkness of the night, my room looked like a welcoming haven and it felt so personal; so me. In that spark of rationale, I realized that I did not necessarily have to look within to 'find myself', but rather, a momentary glimpse into my room revealed the hidden treasures about myself that I had been looking for all along.

Gazing into my room, the first thing that caught my attention was the vast array of cutout art pictures that dotted the walls. Ranging from a self-portrait of Frida Kahlo...