The Past

She walked into her old bedroom and looked around. It was funny, she mused. The walls were still the same shade of soft pink that made you think of pink lemonade, and the floor was still the same - but the room was not. She stood in the doorway unsure if she should walk in. It was no longer hers, all her things had been ruthlessly put in boxes or thrown out. She herself wasn't there for the packing of her things - but still they could have cared a little. Right?

She hesitantly took a step into the room. There was so much clutter everywhere and it wasn't hers. Boxes half-full, completely empty, or totally full were stacked haphazardly against the dresser. She looked to the wall that was with the door and noticed the the desk had been moved. All her pictures or posters had been torn down. She made her way across the room to the bookshelf and scanned it's contents. She noticed that her books and school work were missing. They were either packed or tossed. Tossed she thought more likely.

It hurt to be in this room. This used to be hers - and now? Now it was someone else's. The room used to be warm and inviting but now it was so cold. She laughed, cold like the new owner. She made her way to the closet and looked in. Someone else's clothes now lined the closet. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. She didn't like closets. With one last look around the room she sighed. It was such a beautiful room - now it was a disaster. They completely removed any sign that she had once lived in the room. It was a sign, they had completely removed any sign or memory of her. So this is how they wanted to be? Fine. If they didn't want to treat her things with respect then obviously they didn't want to treat her with respect. She grabbed her only box of things and left. Her heart ached as she closed the door to her old bedroom.