goodbye lenin.
My parents and I never seem to agree on anything. My room, for instance. It's been a passive aggressive world war for months now, and this weekend they finally lost it. I liked it green. They liked it not green. I said it was my room, not theirs. They something to the effect of "YOU LIVE IN A FUCKING CAVE."
It's so sad, because my green room was very me. I spent ages personalizing it, making it mine the second we moved in. I really value my privacy and freedom of expression. And my parents simply walked all over it. Everything. Gone. My old twin was replaced by a full size, my brilliant green walls now antique white, and the walls devoid of Harry, Roger, and Captain Jack Sparrow (not to mention Rosie the Riveter and Speed Racer). The 45s I so cleverly taped and the ginormous vintage Ethan Allen clock were all put away, too.
And The Board. Ripped violently from the wall. I knew this because I had witnessed the hateful act with my own eyes. Me, standing in the doorway, observing helplessly as my possessed mother cut and tore away until there was nothing left, not a single piece of cork. I had managed to salvage everything tacked onto it, but they weren't leaving the shoebox for a long, long time.
I really should try and get used to this new Look and Feel. I don't hate it. I mean, it's agreeable and tasteful, of course. But it's just so clean and bland, and the aura of purity is driving me nuts. Bedrooms are supposed to reflect the occupant's personality, not a parent's ideals!
*Leaves to go find anarchy stickers*
It's so sad, because my green room was very me. I spent ages personalizing it, making it mine the second we moved in. I really value my privacy and freedom of expression. And my parents simply walked all over it. Everything. Gone. My old twin was replaced by a full size, my brilliant green walls now antique white, and the walls devoid of Harry, Roger, and Captain Jack Sparrow (not to mention Rosie the Riveter and Speed Racer). The 45s I so cleverly taped and the ginormous vintage Ethan Allen clock were all put away, too.
And The Board. Ripped violently from the wall. I knew this because I had witnessed the hateful act with my own eyes. Me, standing in the doorway, observing helplessly as my possessed mother cut and tore away until there was nothing left, not a single piece of cork. I had managed to salvage everything tacked onto it, but they weren't leaving the shoebox for a long, long time.
I really should try and get used to this new Look and Feel. I don't hate it. I mean, it's agreeable and tasteful, of course. But it's just so clean and bland, and the aura of purity is driving me nuts. Bedrooms are supposed to reflect the occupant's personality, not a parent's ideals!
*Leaves to go find anarchy stickers*
