The Girl In That Room

 My childhood bedroom wasn’t anything extravagant.

But it was mine.

The walls changed colors once — to one very committed season of bubblegum pink.

Not soft blush.

Not subtle pastel.

Bubblegum. Pink.

The furniture got rearranged depending on whatever phase I was in.

And at one point — in what can only be described as a deeply committed life choice — I cut out every single photo of my favorite boy bands from magazines and created a full border around the top of my walls.

Yes. A border. All the way around.

Commitment has never been my issue.

What I didn’t consider was the future of said border.

Specifically, the year my dad graciously offered to repaint my room while I was away at school — and had to peel down every carefully taped, teenage-delusion-fueled square inch of that masterpiece.

I’m pretty sure I got a phone call.

I’m also pretty sure I was informed, with colorful language, that the border had to go.

Honestly? Fair.

That room held every version of me —

the dramatic one,

the hopeful one,

the slightly unhinged fangirl one.

It was where I journaled.

Where I cried over things that felt catastrophic at fourteen.

Where I laid on the floor staring at those bubblegum pink walls, imagining the life I’d have one day.

It was also where I shut the door, blasted my favorite songs, and performed fully choreographed dances as if I were seconds away from being discovered.

The commitment? Olympic level.

The talent? Debatable.

Where I’d live.

Who I’d marry.

What kind of woman I’d become.

It all felt so far away then.

That bedroom was messy most of the time. Loud sometimes. Quiet often.

But it was safe.

And I didn’t realize at the time how much that safety mattered.

I remember the color now.

I remember the feeling more.

The privacy.

The dreaming.

The space to grow without being watched.

It was the first place I learned that becoming doesn’t happen all at once.

It happens slowly.

Inside four bubblegum pink walls.

In phases you eventually outgrow.

And sometimes I think about that girl — surrounded by boy band cutouts, big feelings, and very serious choreography — and I smile.

She had no idea.

And that’s kind of the best part.