Drabble 17: In which Sarah Describes Her Room in Great Detail

I can't write today. At least I feel like I can't and I didn't write yesterday. And if I don't get some words on paper, I will become ashes. That is, I will explode from my own disappointment in myself. So I'm describing my room. Like the notebooks we did in AP English back in high school because I need to write something.

There's an explosion of index cards upon my door, under my one lonely shelf, across my dresser drawers, and pinned to my bulletin board. They are scribbled on with Sharpie, some tattered, others pristine. Often, I stare at them. I reread them.

I ponder perspectives.

Upon my dresser, my printer sits with a coffee cup full of markers, chapstick, a half-empty water bottle, an old glass coke bottle, push pins, piles of index cards, and an accumulation of dust. Above it sticky-tacked to to the wall is a volleyball poster made by Madi. It proclaims "Sarah Marshall #6" and reminds me of the applause at senior night.

It reminds me that I am more important to people than I think I am.

The sunlight peaks through the slim crack beneath my blinds. It elongates the shadow of the keyboard that sits unused by the window. It stretches all the way back to my door, separating the wall into light purple below and shadowy gray above.

In the throws of shadowed light, there sits the cut-out front of a cereal box. It's been crafted to say, "I <3 YOU BUNCHES of Oats." There's a spoon with honey bunches of oats on it and soft white words that say, honey roasted. At the top, there are the words, "FAMILY SIZE". And it makes me laugh. I've never liked an object with so much orange on it more than this one. I haven't liked very many objects more than this one period.

My bed is crumble of green sheets and a deep purple comforter. The dark wood that makes up its frame is covered in childhood blemishes: stickers, scotch tape, crayon, and nail polish. Its been well loved. Aria, my stuffed moose, rests on the pile of sheets. She looks sad today, if it's possible for a stuffed moose to be sad.

There's a Florence & the Machine poster above my bed, next to the unflipped light switch. My light burned out last night and I haven't bothered to replace it. It's an old poster. That is based on her old cd, Lungs. She sits on a sequined moon of silver. It's straight out of her "You've Got the Love" video, and while I like this song, I didn't not pick this poster. It's another reminder...

My shelf is drowned by books. A single row sits like a train with over loaded cars. It's broken up with boxes, a teddy bear, a flat volleyball, a hand painted picture, a hat, a piggy bank, a scrapbook angled outward, Kleenex, and a Spiderman puzzle. 

THE END