Note: This piece was originally published in the HPAC Young Writers Review, The 6 Train: Volume II.
White walls, varnished wood floor, green shades,
an open area for opportunities
of furniture, posters, hangers,
and mirrors that show how I wake up in the morning.
These objects all serve a purpose,
and can serve a lifetime of purpose to ensuring my comfort.
It hasn’t been long since I’ve slept on my own bed.
It hasn’t been long, since I’ve just moved in.
My bed is there,
and so are half my clothes
and half my books,
and half myself.
I keep going away
repacking my suitcase every week
and taking half myself,
leaving things quite undone.
How can I finish settling in
If half myself keeps
leaving spaces vacant
every summer week?
Like the mattress on the floor that needs a physical stand,
like the unopened bottles of cream that need to be put in containers,
or like the books that have made their home on the floor,
whereas they want to be held by shelves.
Nothing in my room defines who I am now,
my room isn’t filled with things that I like,
or the calendars that show
what I did yesterday,
what I’m doing today
or what I have to do tomorrow.
There are white spaces that have to be filled
by these important (but not to die for) personal items.
Every object could take place at a different corner, but in the end,
they are going to be in the same room,
every day, for the rest of whenever.
So no matter where something is moved,
their home will always be my room.
This wooden bed could go here,
go there or next to the window.
I have to get on the next ferry
and finish moving in.
My passions have to hang by nails.
My goals have to be drilled to the wall
and deadlines have to be put on their proper shelves.
The half me comes together with the other half myself
to fill the open areas for
the future of I.