Dear Room,

In my nineteen years of living, I had taken you for granted. As a child, you had been a punishment. Every time my mom would yell, "Megan, go to your room!" it felt like a prison sentence. I would entertain myself by talking to the little girls having tea parties on my wallpaper, but to me, you were nothing special. Just a room. At the age of thirteen, I was given the opportunity to redesign you. It was hard to find a color that I felt complimented your magenta carpeting, but when I had settled on Dill Pickle Green, I suddenly began to feel as though my room was more of a haven than a prison cell. I had the freedom to hang posters of the One Direction members or "Hunger Games" cast during my preteen years. Throughout high school, photos of my friends replaced those posters and began to cover as many surfaces as possible. You were my own piece of my home. You became my refuge; my safe space. I could release all of my emotions within your four walls and not feel an ounce of judgement.

When I went to school, I did not realize how much I would miss you. For nineteen years, you had always been there for me to run back to whenever I was feeling sad, weak, furious or anything in between. I did not realize how difficult it would be to transform another space into a home for so long until I had to move into my dorm. After two semesters of adjusting to my new living space, personalizing it and regarding it as home, I have been taken back to you.

Now, looking at your Dill Pickle Green walls, I realize that you represent the past. Your walls have witnessed my most stressful and joyful moments. You have heard my late night confessions and my anger-induced rants. You have watched me grow from a babbling toddler to a young woman. No one outside of my family has witnessed this type of growth in me. No one in my family knows me as well as you do. So, when I returned home, the first thing I did was climb the staircase to reach you. Not a single thing was changed and that was more comforting than I had expected. The Dill Pickle Green walls still held same pictures. The magenta carpet still had the same stains from that time I spilled Starbucks on it. You were exactly as I had left it.

I have to admit that coming back to you for the first time was a blast from the past. When I looked around, I was met with millions of memories. Silly times combined with serious moments, all flooding into my mind as though a dam had just broken. I was overcome with nostalgia, but it was truly the best feeling in the world. I had become so used to the cinderblock walls and tiled floor of my dorm room. Despite how much I had attempted to convert the room into my own personal space, it was still a cinderblock room. The stained creme tint of the walls could not compare to your Dill Pickle Green.

I had decorated them with recent pictures of my college friends alongside ones of my high school friends. Your walls, though, included much older pictures. I fondly looked upon shots of moments with friends that I had not seen since middle school. I reflected on the memories that you held deep within you and I couldn't help but cry. For the first time in my life, you felt more like a piece of my past than a piece of my present. The feeling was foreign, as you had been there for almost every moment of my life up until I had left for school.

It has been two weeks since I have been back home and I am happy to say that these emotions have surpassed. You have now witnessed more of my present. Some of the old pictures on your walls have been replaced with pictures from school, but I have purposely left the majority of the original ones hanging. I have learned that you are one of the only things in my life that has stayed constant. I have been lucky enough to have not moved at all during my life, because if I had, I don't know what I would have been able to do without my bedroom.

I have learned that you are the representative of my past and my present. Your walls hold memories that I will probably never be able to think of again. You have witnessed conversations that none involved will ever remember again. You have seen my highest and my lowest points and for that, I am thankful. I am happy to have you as the thing that has stayed consistent in my life. You have been there for me ever since I was born. Every time I left my house, you were right there waiting. Even now, when I had created a new room, had a new home and lived with new people, you stood right where you were, waiting.

I know that no matter how many times I leave, you will always be my room. You have my memories. You know me better than anyone ever will because you have seen me in my most personal and intimate moments. Thank you for every bit of solace, comfort and peace that you have given me over the past nineteen years. I know that I will forever and always remember you, both with the little girls on your walls and your Dill Pickle Green paint.

With love,
Meg