The well lit room makes the adorned walls glow with light. Music plays loudly, filling every empty space in the messy room. Unread magazines lie on the bed, and unpacked overnight bags lie on the floor. The orange and pink tie-dye blanket is laid out neatly over the mattress, and a candle is burning on the nightstand.


She lays on the bed, pencil in hand, carelessly reciting the words to the song playing. The room smells of cinnamon, and the world outside the window smells of rain. She stares down at her journal absently, and waits for the sentences to come to her. Her mind is vacant and she begins to daydream, thinking of what could have been and what she wishes still was. And that's when her thoughts become words and her pencil begins to soar.