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Not Just a Room

I found this old diary entry I'd written on the night before I moved out of home. I guess it's a little love letter of sorts to the beautiful, sunny, little room of my adolescence and thanking it for all it allowed me to do within it's walls. Silly, but thinking a lot about change and moving forward recently and this was so sweet to read back over and think back to that space.

The last night in this room... my room... the room of my adolescence. This room knew me before Howqua, before Olive or Louis or Juice or Olivia... the walls have been covered in posters and pictures and blistered from blue tack. I once thought if I was to ever take it down, the very walls themselves would collapse. This room has seen me through endings - leaving my home up in the high country... saying goodbye to my treasured art room and to old Mags... I sat at the same desk... the same chair for the past 10 years. I spaced away at that desk, looking out at that exact same view for all of year 12... it saw creative melt down after melt down. It saw all nighters throughout uni, binding books and designing apps. The floors were covered in a layer of crafts and paper so thick, you couldn’t even see the carpet. This house saw me through my firsts; kisses, clubbing, my first joint around the corner at Grooby’s, my formals, through old loves, endless diary writing.

This is where I became who I am now. All the nights I stumbled back here, rescued uni friends from sleeping on dirty shag pile rugs at house parties, where Chess and I sought refuge one night after Survivor - where we ended up watching hours of the OC to gently rock ourselves to sleep... where we had a pretend surprise party for Bora while Mum was away,  where I snuck out to go riding in Alex Cox’s dad's car he’d stolen to joy ride in in the middle of the night... the maccas runs, wandering blissfully down the middle of the street with a Big Mac breathing in the cool night air.

I’ve outgrown this room now. Now that it’s bare, it’s any wonder how I managed to fit. So much has changed, so many friends have come and gone, so many part time jobs I've grown out of. I’ve slammed this door more times than I can count. Become distracted from working, looked to the right and serenaded myself... then danced naked in the mirror, revelling in all my glory and nakedness. I decided to get a pierced nose and curly fringe in this room. Me and my doggy lounge in this room. I drink tea in this room. Wake up to find Big Mac salad scattered across the floor of this room... I spilt nail polish and paint and dye and even rusted the carpet, in this room. I spent 6 months painting this room... planned overseas trips in this room. I would crash at 3am in this room after working at Bad Frankie... I’d ride home during summer and stop off at Citizens Park, run through the sprinklers to cool myself down and then collapse into bed. This is more than just a room. This is part of who I am. Thank you for everything you have been for me, for all I’ve been able to do within your walls. For showering me in sunshine and sweet spring river air... you will be the most me room there will ever be. The room I will have done the most amount of growing in, ever. It won’t be forgotten. 


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