21

Girlhood through every stage paints my room; a rose budded clock from the botanical gardens; crystals to “heal” my soul; a Lana Del Rey print from age 10; a lamp riddled with cherries; a mirror to nitpick everything ugly about me; a mirror to nitpick everything pretty about me; a notebook filled with love letters I’ve never sent (I wish I’d sent them); a Pulp Fiction poster from my sister’s best friend; a little icon of Jesus from church (I rarely ever go); a desk cluttered with every beauty product imaginable; a framed picture of me/my friends; a framed photo of my parents in their 20s (the absence of lines shows the absence of us); a dream catcher to pluck my night terrors (it seems to be working); a cabinet filled with every single perfume you can imagine; florals, musks, vanillas, oceanic, fresh scents, woody ones, all of it; books I haven’t read toppling over my side table; a bed riddled with emotions and residual teen angst haunting it; a journal to let that anger out; a pen to press hard against the pages with; a poem in Serbian above of my bed to remind me to be grateful (we came to Canada to give you a better life); a cream pillow to dream about the future; a bubblegum pink one to fear the future; a Betty Boop clock ticking away at my girlhood.