From Here

It's not much. A little 6x6 space with four walls - one of 140 in my building. It has everything I need, including a little basin which I'm quite fond of. I never was all that keen on brushing my teeth and washing my face in a communal bathroom. 

I suppose it's just big enough for someone who's life is supposed to revolve around their studies. I'm never stuck in it for long enough to get sick of it; friends' houses, little coffee shops, pubs and lecture venues keep me busy enough to keep any cabin fever feelings at bay and when exam season comes around, the library makes for a good escape. I've made it my own. My pretty linen makes it feel a little more like home and the photos that fill the walls tell my story. 

My desk is probably my favourite spot - it's where framed photographs of my family and best friends sit. It's where I spend many late nights typing furiously away on my keyboard in the hopes of churning out an essay that will somehow make me feel like all the work I put into my studies is worth it. It's where I sit, with a delicious smelling candle burning, and write pages upon pages of letters to God, revealing my heart to Him. Its big and its wooden and its warm. If you climb underneath it and look up, there's dozens of names scribbled and carved into the wood. Names of girls who called this little space theirs before I did, names of girls all hoping to have left some kind of mark, names of girls who have conquered this seemingly never-ending journey of obtaining a degree as well as names of girls who let life get in the way and as a result, got academically excluded. There's something comforting about knowing that I'm not the first and I'm certainly not the last one to have gone through this season of life I find myself in now.

This little space of mine has been through movie nights where my girlfriends and I have covered the tiny floor with mattresses, snuggled up, ripped open a bag of popcorn and cried as we get ridiculously involved in a Nicholas Sparks inspired movie. It has housed many a night where the girls and I crack open a bottle of wine while we apply our make up and try on different outfits for later on in the evening where we'll make our way into town. It's witnessed the moments where I'm overwhelmed and missing my family. It's been the place I'm able to escape to, the place I'm able to shed a tear with the door locked, hoping no one comes knocking.

I would snap photographs for you all but to be honest, there's nothing spectacular about it at all. There's an unfinished mug of tea on my bedside table, a sock has made himself rather comfortable on my floor and you can barely see my desk for it is covered with pages and pages of hand written notes - evidence that I am in fact studying - you'll be glad to know, Clauds! It's also my space - the only space I have all to myself on this whole campus, and if you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep it that way.

It's not much. A little 6x6 space with four walls - one of 140. It's not much at all, but it's the place I call home for 9 months out of the year.

Blog Everyday In May, Day 7 - "Where Are You Writing From?"