July 17th, 2005

I nearly finished stripping the wallpaper from the walls of my room today. It’s so strange how such a slight modification (however time-consuming and frustrating it may be) can completely change the feel of the room. It’s after midnight now (12:34 AM), and the room seems foreign somehow, the walls stark and cold and somehow inspiring. I took down the white polyester curtains today and put them in the washer for the first time ever, and the windows seem to gape, huge un-trimmed squares reflecting the strings of white twinkle lights in the blackness of the night, bringing into focus the mirror-image of my room, making it seem that if I were to put my hand out towards the glass, all I would touch would be the basket, the chest, the bookshelf and dresser and telescope. But it scares me a little, because I haven’t seen two of my room like this before, and I feel vulnerable, as though the windows are one-way glass, and there could be droves of people staring in. I comfort myself in the thought that yesterday, when I scoped out my own home as I drove up the driveway, I couldn’t see my windows for all the trees. It helps briefly, but not much, and I don’t like sitting this way, with my back to the window; I keep looking over my right shoulder, making sure nothing in the window-mirror has changed.