12. Dear 603,

Here's a post for you. Yes, for my apartment. In less than a month, I'll be moving out and I have no enough words that could actually convey or express how thankful I am for you. As weird as it may sound, I take the places I live as a part of me. Well, a really huge part of me. With me being an introvert and who constantly need to have her walls when things get rough. And there you were, with me the whole entire time. To me, you're not just, a room. I don't even call you my room. I call you Home, with a capital H. I remember when I first came in, feeling so lost and empty, as I carried all my luggage in you. I was hoping for a better view out of my window, but little did I know, the view you gave me is the perfect one: white walls and less lights. Nothing has calmed me down more than those two. And then time moved on and I started adding more and more of me inside you. I had pictures I've taken up on the wall, I had my poetry held up on the wall, I had recipes up in the kitchen--I had everything up on the wall, just because I know, you could always remind me that I have something in me that not all these people would appreciate enough of. 

I've missed you during summer. I'm sorry I've always been outside instead of just, being inside. I tried so much to be someone whom I shouldn't. I wanted to be out. I'm very sorry. I got home every night, finding you very quiet and empty. I shouldn't have. In summer I cooked, but food didn't taste as good as they used to like its used to during spring last year. Then I messed you up being rushing every morning to get to when I was supposed to. Then I got home, took shower and slept. The scene repeated for over a month. Then summer ended, I was back again with you in fall last year. It was, the toughest time for me. I broke down. I hit rock bottom. But you, you held me together. You shut everything down and became my wall. You did what you could--you watched me cried, you heard me screamed with my tears down my cheeks, you witnessed my tears dried up as I finally fell asleep. I knew I had you with me the whole time. And then November came in no time and I got better that time. I had my parents over and everything felt normal again. I felt like you were too small for us, but no. You're more than enough for us. More than enough. 

And then my parents went back, I was alone again, with you. That night, when they left, you were dark and dull, just like how I felt. I cried again in your silence but you soothed me to sleep like you always do. The next day, I woke up fine and there I was, back to the real world. Last winter was worse than spring. I've missed my parents more than I ever did. I cried and cried, and cried. But you were so understanding that every time I begin to wipe my tears, you brought me to the mirror. The mirror where I get to see the real me. The mirror showed me how beautiful and how strong I have been. Then I cried a little more and I stopped. I went on with my days and you just kept me reminded of who I am, as I stared down into myself in the mirror. You were right, I should look at myself more in the mirror because none of these people could see the beauty and strength in me, more that you and I could. Sometimes I looked at myself and cried but other times, I looked at myself with confidence and smiled. But you stood through and just continued being the most comfortable shelter for me everyday. And here we are, in the mid-February, and I'm writing this to you on the floor, on your floor, thinking how hard it would be to give you to someone else. Would the next person who walks into you be as lost as I was when I first came in? Or would the next person be a cheerful one? Whoever s/he will be, I believe in you and know that I will always miss you and your tough, and protective walls. We'll always have pieces of each other for the rest of the time. I'll always miss your smell and I hope you will too. 

Truthfully,

Yours.