I don't think you ever saw my door before I moved out. My bedroom door, for six years of my life, was my scrapbook. Every inch of it was covered. I don't think I have any photos, sadly, but there were old stickers, little pieces of things from years ago, stupid drawings and doodles from me and my friends, badges, ticket stubs, programs, candy wrappers whose design I liked, a spork, even a piece of my friend's weave (don't even ask).
So, yeah, I might not be the best standard of normal, but I definitely did the same thing! Before that I covered my dresser in knickknacks and little useless oddments; when I went away for an academic camp, by the end of six weeks my entire dorm wall was covered in my music programs, letters from friends, and dozens of photographs
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So, yeah, I might not be the best standard of normal, but I definitely did the same thing! Before that I covered my dresser in knickknacks and little useless oddments; when I went away for an academic camp, by the end of six weeks my entire dorm wall was covered in my music programs, letters from friends, and dozens of photographs ( ... )
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