Secret Place

They all call it my "hideout" or "room" but it is neither of those things and yet it is both at the same time. It is my domain, my own place. But it is no hidden room. No, it's just where I fall asleep at night and wake up the next morning.

My bedroom is more like the attic to the whole house. Granted, we don't live in the largest home but it is still just that, home. Neither of my parents believe in worldly possessions that much so there isn't too much extra clutter that needs to be stored up here. So, it's my own sanctuary that I get to do what I please with.

When I was younger, I had toys and a tv on a cart with a gaming system attached. But even in my younger years, there was always a bookshelf in my room. Like anyone else, I started with picture books than merged to transition chapter books. I was reading young chapter books like most second or third graders would in Kindergarten. So, even from the beginning, I was the weirdo, oddball kid. That doesn't even begin to touch on my alien appearance.

So, with every year of my life that has passed more bookshelves have been added to my room. Each quickly fills with books for me to read. I'm an overly curious creature and it shows in my room. Graphs, charts and posters crowd most of my walls and some of my ceiling. I even have a reading nook a few different chairs and even a hammock.

But my desk is my favorite place in my room. It's almost a full square and filled to the brim with prints of records, two computers, different office supplies, a few different mechanic things and a lot more stuff.

Sometimes, when I'm stressed, I'll jump out of the window and onto the roof.

My room may not be very secret, but it's my home.