I stood at the door way, watching, replaying every single memory that had happened in this room. I was finally saying good bye. I had long awaited this day yet for some reason I was unprepared for the emotions that would arise from my departure. I loved this room I called my haven and turning my back from it was rather forlorn. I was going to miss my dear white and dull walls, oh how I hated those white walls, I even remember the day they were painted.
"Mom, can't I chose the colour of my walls?" I don't know why I had been expecting a different answer but it was always no. Her reasoning being that I was currently sharing the room so it wouldn't be fair if I chose the colour. Two months later the room was all mine, now remind me again why I had to get it painted white. During the time I stayed in my room the walls had accumulated more stains than I ought to be proud of. There was a time when one of my father's workmates came over with his "adorable" little son named Tawanda. Tawanda needed to use the toilet. I showed him to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, the whole house now had a vile smell, like that of when you enter the bathroom after someone who has diarrhoea finishes. Only the smell had been intensified. I went to go look for the boy in my room only to see a poop stain on my wall.
I really did try to cover up my wall with as many paintings and poems that I could find to try and hid the white in efforts to add "colour" to my room. Now as I look back it looks just like the first time it was painted white.
This was the room where my friends and I had congregated to gossip, sing, cry and talk about boys. My two best friends came more often than not that this was practically their second home, I even have a section for all their left items in my closet. Oh how I'm going to miss those two.
My lilac curtains held the dearest of memories. I had just woken up and it was around ten, I had a terrible headache and my fever had taken a turn for the worse. I heard the soft strumming of the guitar followed by the voice of Henry singing 'A thousand years' by Christina Perri. I slowly opened the curtain making sure to hide the rest of my sick body behind my curtain. He sang the whole song and all I could feel was him tugging at the strings of my heart. It was the sweetest thing anyone had done for me. He then asked me to be his girlfriend, even though my hair was in a mess and I'm pretty sure I had some saliva on my cheek, even with me hiding behind my curtain.
I turned to my bed with its SpongeBob Square Pants cover. I don't know why I never quite changed it. I always wanted to change it but I never got around to doing it. My bed mostly held painful memories. Whenever I was sad I'd always go to my bed and cry. I cried when my parents constantly fought. I cried when I heard them argue over who would take custody for me because unfortunately, neither of them wanted me. I don't know why but for some odd reason they thought that shouting at each other with their bedroom door closed would magically stop the sound of their voices from echoing in the house. I cried when my father died. My bed was always there for me to shed my tears.
My dresser had been stripped of all most of my belongings since they were my most prized possession and I couldn't just leave them. There was a crack in my mirror which was caused by a stupid game of truth and dare. I had been dared to walk to the door blind folded. I tripped on something and landed head first on the mirror, cracking my skin in the process. I had to go to the hospital to get it stitched up. I also had to then clean up all the blood on the mirror by myself. I never played another game of truth and dare.
My desk now stood there like a ghost with no books or clutter lying on it. Hard work was achieved at that desk. Late night calls on skype with Henry where made when I'd be pretending to study where on that very desk and the greatest idea known to me was created on that very desk. The desk has very simple yet elegant design. It was made out of teal and as my mother used to say, it was older than my existence.
I took one more look, the last glance and turned away. I was moving on to greater things and new beginnings. I just hoped my mother would not be as lonely without me.
