Yesterday I spent the entire day cleaning and reorganizing my room. I'm not exaggerating when I say the entire day. Apart from an hour or so spent hiding behind the coat rack in the dark having a mild breakdown, the day was dedicated to the upheaval of my room.
For one reason or another, women have this inbred desire to rearrange the furniture every few months. I think it has to do with being somewhat claustrophobic and probably ties in with the breakdowns as well (or maybe that's just me?). I used to have my bed against the wall, but I thought to myself, "hey, why should that stay there?" So I moved it to the middle of the room.
I realized that night why I had kept the bed against the wall. I woke up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason and realized "It's dark in here..." I started to feel vulnerable and began to realize how easy it would be for something to reach over the sides of the bed and grab me. My protective wall was gone. I was stranded on an island-bed in the middle of my own room in the dark mysterious hours of the monsters and other things that go bump in the night. I can't begin to describe the feeling of helplessness.
Whenever I get scared at night (which is more often than I like admitting) I always feel embarrassed about in the morning. So I'm resolving to get used to it and am leaving my bed where it is. I don't need protective walls.
After all, I eat nails for breakfast, right?
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