something so comforting about waking up in the room you grew up in as a kid
itβs such a familiar yet distant view, like waking up to a past life - the posters, the books, the shelves lined with stuffed animals and random trinkets
i like to think that if i knocked on the door of where i lived from birth to age 11, the people that live there now would just let me in without question. just bc it used to be my house.
