Finding My Voice

A new life

     Moving into a new neighborhood is hard, carrying countless heavy boxes full of my legendary Pokemon cards, Jake Paul merchandise, stolen Webkinz codes, a grain of rice with my name carved in it, and so much more memories from my old life. After we finished unloading everything from the truck, I made my way up the stairs, and some more stairs, and then a ladder, and some spider webs, up to my new room. My room was the attic, not because my parents hate me or anything, I just want to be grunge aesthetic.  

The attic was empty and unfurnished, for now. The only things accompanying the walls were cobwebs in every corner, a few layers of dust on the crusty musty creaky floor boards, and torn wallpaper peeling like when I squirt glue in my hand and then wait for it to dry and then tear it off. But like different, if anything nothing at all like that analogy at all I just want an artsy mindset. 

I finished my room within a few hours, I didn't need much, just my mediocre hot topic teenager decorations and my super underground garage band posters. Plus some lame furniture my mom slapped into my room. I pull out my easy bake oven and bake a brownie for supper, I have school tomorrow so I don't eat the entire undercooked pastry, I put it on the ground next to my bed as i fall into a deep sleep.