Up on the large second story of a relatively large house, near the top of the wooden stairs is a small room that I call my own. ext to the plain white door, sticking out of the happy pink wall on the left, is my small, uncomfortable twin bed. Actually, my bed is more like a sea of purple blankets pouring over my bedside onto the floor with a mass of stuffed animals and clothes entangled in the mess. Laying comfortably on my bed is an old, skinny orange cat who I call Baby. Leaning against the end of my small, short bed is the century-old chestnut bed board waiting to be pieced together so it can be called a bed for the first time in at least five years.

Next to my bed against a rosy pink wall sits my dresser, the same century-old chestnut as my soon-to-be bed board, which used to belong to my great-grandmother. Sitting on top of the ancient dresser are various sized dolls and jewelry boxes from different countries around the world. Standing proudly in the center of the hectic scene is an Eiffel Tower lamp surrounded on either side by memories of my early passion for Madeline.

Across the room from my dresser sits a boring yet modern desk with four skinny silver legs and a smooth, flat white surface. Below sits a red plastic shelf which I use for holding my most prized books. The top surface is covered with scattered papers, books, clothes, writing utensils, and other various items. Underneath the whole mess is a Disney Cinderella alarm clock to match my girly walls, which I unfortunately have to set each night. Near my desk, in the corner of the room next to one of the two windows sits a seldom-used television set on top of an ugly wooden cabinet which holds our household PlayStation set.

Against the wall next to the lonely television set and underneath my two open windows sit four different-shaped pillows in the color of an Arabian rainbow. That happens to be the best place in the whole house for sitting and chatting on the phone, whether it be for five minutes or an hour. Fashionably perched next to the chatting area are my best-loved dolls who have seen both good and bad hair days. This area also happens to be in a corner and is right next to my dresser.

My room is my favorite room in the house, even though it's excessively hot in the summer and smells like sweaty dogs and is fairly cold and scentless in the winter. I love my room because it is the most interesting room in the whole house and because it expresses me, my attitude, and my personality better than anything else.