you're not my best friend right now. shape up.

oh room, oh room, oh room.
thank you for storing all of the things in life that i need.
thank you for holding my clothes for 12 years like you have.
thank you for letting me post pictures with tape... even if it does hurt your walls.
thank you for letting me rock out sometimes when i'm alone.
thanks a load for being big enough to have sleepovers in.
thank you for having lots of windows so that i don't have to flip on the light switch.
thank you for watching me grow up.

however.

i really hate you right now.
no, like really.
you're the worst.

you housed old notes from old boyfriends that i had the annoying task of reading this past week.
couldn't you just lose those like i've lost so many more important things in you before?
i'll trade you.
my jolly goat from the great move of '98
for those notes.
you can have them.
i hate those notes.
you won't let me sleep in peace.
you're so friggin' hot, and your fan doesn't work.
you're on the corner of the house, so i don't really like that about you...
and your walls are white.
that thing itself could make a person go ballistic.

anyway...
i love you, but it would help me out if you'd cooperate with me.
because you're composed of boxes and boxes of stuff.
who even knows what that STUFF is!
dear room:
don't get me started on your STUFF.

pppplease just finish packing yourself up.
i'm tired of finding notes that suck.

thank you,
your faithful room attendant,
courtney.