(17, CA, USA) Carly - The Changing Landscape

I fondly remember the details of my bedroom when my family moved to California. I recall my parents' assurance that I could pick the colors of my walls and decorate the space to my liking, hoping to alleviate the tensions that had risen regarding leaving my childhood home. My six-year-old self took full advantage of these promises. Once we arrived in California, my bedroom was of the utmost importance to me. I transformed what had once been a barren, dull space into a child’s vivid daydream. My walls were a striking display, contrasting between green and pink. My bed was smothered by a garish zebra-print comforter and I filled empty corners with anything that interested me. Stuffed animals piled up next to my bed, while fantasy novels lined the shelves that sat on the opposite wall. Paintbrushes, colored pencils, and toys decorated the carpet, creating a vivid disarray of color. I loved every bit of it. But as years passed, I began to outgrow the landscape that had been my paradise. The walls were too flashy, my disarray of passions felt like a mess. I felt as if my bedroom needed to reflect my newfound “maturity” that I recognized in every other middle school girl. I returned to my bedroom with a bucket of white paint and suffocated the vividness of my childhood. I concealed my walls with black and white paint and replaced my comforter with a plain white one. I buried the stuffed animals and toys in the corners of my closet, shutting the door to conceal them from any wandering eyes. I tossed my “childish” interests in the garbage and pushed them out of my mind. I replaced colored pencils with makeup, toys with clothes, conforming myself to fit right in with everyone else. I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be liked, and if being liked meant abandoning the things I loved, I was more than willing. I restored my bedroom to the barren space it had once been, seeming as if I had never lived there at all. Once I began high school, the fears of fitting in only seemed to grow larger. I had lost myself in the face of adolescent conformity, overwhelmed by the overbearing desire to assimilate into my surroundings. Yet once my freshman year started, I realized that I could finally give up the facade. I surrounded myself with genuine friends and pulled my interests back out from the crevices of my bedroom. I placed records on the empty shelves, bought a guitar and filled the quiet air with humming chords and plucking strings. I littered the floor with artwork, decorating slips of paper with colorful hues and brush strokes. I realized that my life did not have to be monotone, limited to only black, grey, and white. Although I am no longer a child, I can still embrace the color of my youth, the vibrance of my dreams, and the things I love. While my bedroom may no longer be pink and green, it reflects every part of who I am and who I hope to be.