Everyone has their morning r fall out(p)ine, but do we ever re exclusivelyy support the time to notice the little things? Everybody has someplace that is special to them in his or her make way. After stressful days at school and work, I like to lose myself in my own private hideaway. My bedroom is the last thing I count before I fall asleep every wickedness and the first thing I catch sight of when I awaken. There is something special about the seclusion of my bedroom. What is identity? What does it compressed to be an individual? Individuality is what determines who you are and how you interact. Being equal to define yourself can sometimes be problematical, but of all places, this is the one setting that is completely your own. It exudes independence, personality, and style of the occupant. Its where I blow over most of my time when Im at home.
        A distorted leave forty hit blared through my faithful alarms tiny speaker. I pounded the snooze bar with the precision of an elephant stepping on a mouse. solid rays of the blinding sun peeked through my crooked, stiff blinds suggesting the start of a new day. I wiped away the grit of a honorable nights sleep from my eyes, and saw the dim numbers of the clock twirp me.
I stretched my heavy arms and legs, nearly reaching the quatern posts of my queen size bed. As I wearily crawled out of my warm comforter, my cold feet searched for the familiar black fuzzy carpet resting atop my bedroom floor. I lethargically rose out of bed, the carpet fibers lightly tickling the pads of my feet. Looking at my bed, I see the sheets and blankets in dire need of straightening. My bed isnt hold in to being slept upon, some...
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