5.2.18 | room #102

I'm going to miss you, room #102.
My temporary shoebox, yet
my first real place.
In some ways,
this felt more like home
than any house I've ever had.
There are friends right across the hall,
down the hall, too.
There are vomit stains on the carpet,
and sticky rings from where vodka spilled on the desk.
But there are also memories,
of 4 AM giggles,
and 2 AM rants,
and 1 AM cries,
all heard,
all listened,
all valid.
Everyone is in a rush to get home,
but they don't realize,
this is my home.