robear
I wrote about walls yesterday. Being in a different time zone from America isn't too fun sometimes but sometimes I feel good, like I'm thinking outside the box, outside the walls you could say. Since I've moved I've learned to love America as my home but not as a country.
The walls of my bedroom are white. You'd think I'd feel trapped but for some reason I don't. This is the smallest room I've ever lived in but I'm making it mine. Now my bedroom walls are covered with pictures of my life before college and it makes me happy.