1. The Childhood Bedroom
I don’t think I really even remember my childhood bedroom. Mine was at the end of the corridor of a tiny apartment my mom, my brother and I lived in. Dad was usually out of the country. I think my bedroom changed a few times, depending on what cartoon, Barbie doll or Disney movie was in fashion. There were stuffed animals, at some point Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys posters, half of my closet was used for mom’s storage and it eventually became the computer room. Thank God we moved shortly after that.
2. The Detention Room
The most dreaded room for all of Middle School and High School, there was probably a detention room starting since Kindergarten but I don’t think I was aware of detention then. Although I can honestly say that I was only in the detention room once (felt SO badass), the fear that was associated with that room is one that I have never felt before. Like what room does a 20 something fear nowadays? Sure there’s jail, but that’s an entire building of rooms. Never will you ever see or fear the detention room again.
3. The Freshman Year Dorm
Quite the experience. For some it is the first time they have ever shared a room with someone, someone who is a complete stranger. The freshman year dorm holds who knows how many moments; year after year two new individuals begin their new four year adventure within its four walls. My freshman year dorm holds the awkwardness of the first days, the smell of independence and the tears of my first heartbreaks. Room 215 is one that I will never see again.
4. The first frat house you ever slept in
I thought I would always be above the whole Frat thing. I guess I was wrong. For a good 2 months I traded my heels, my vodka tonics and the techno beats for denim shorts, red Solo cups filled with the cheapest beer and 3am make out sessions in a creaking porch. I spent countless nights in that gorgeous blonde boy’s room; he was everything I never liked before but it felt so right. Every night/early morning I thought it was love. It was all so fast, it was all so intense, the things he said, the butterflies I felt. It was in fact nothing more than two opposites finding out that they had actually nothing in common besides a love for 2am drunk dials and make-out sessions that lasted until sunrise. He eventually moved out of that house, I did see him again, but never the house.
5. The European Apartment
Europe was dreamy; those 4 months were the best I’ve had so far. Most of those moments were lived in my beautiful apartment near Plaza Espagna. The medieval-like key that used to get in, the charming yet scary little elevator that took what felt like 10 minutes to get to the 3rd floor. My bedroom with a view to the windows of other people’s apartments, the miniature kitchen which also held the washing machine, the TV that only played soccer and reruns of Sex and the City in Spanish, the tiniest refrigerator that was shared amongst 4 people. I might see Barcelona someday, I may walk through Plaza Espagna again, but never will I hold the key that will let me go back in to the charming little apartment I once briefly called home.
6. The place where you lost it
For some it was quite a long time ago, some of us are late bloomers. It happened not so long ago, it wasn’t planned. It wasn’t quite how I hoped it would, it never does. He wasn’t my boyfriend; I don’t think I love him or that he loves me. But some things are just meant to happen at some point. I don’t regret it, but it’s not my best memory either. I had seen that bed way too many times. He moved from that studio apartment, he probably doesn’t remember that specific moment, it probably meant nothing to him. That apartment kept something that was mine. That place will forever be the place. I’ll never set foot in it again.