It's One of Those Nights Again

Sometimes I'll look around my room and remember that it's not mine. I've tried to make it at least feel mine, dressing it up with pictures and posters on the wall, little trinkets laying about. Usually it fools me long enough to get to sleep, but some nights I remember where I am.

I miss the feeling of my old rug between my toes, even though it desperately needed to be vacuumed and shampooed. I miss the four tiny rays of sunshine that would steal through the metal hurricane shutters on my window that we still haven't taken down because the neighbor that would lend us his ladder moved away. I miss my noisy fan with the broken light chain. I miss the little dent on my wall next to my bed where my old laptop hit it when I threw it on my bed and it bounced.

Now I have the bit of bare wall where the tape ripped some paint off when I was repositioning my poster. I have the scratch on the other wall from where I tripped and fell on my suitcase, causing it to graze and mark said wall with a black line. I have the tape residue on my door from where the christmas wrapping paper was. I know I've only been here 5 months, and it can't amount to the 11 years I lived in my room in Miami, but I need some memories to grab on to. At least for tonight.

I should go buy a teddy bear.