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This is an Lit 13. Requirement. Posted it for kicks. Enjoy.

I am a very territorial person – I want my space and room to be defined clearly, such that any person passing by my space will know to whom it belongs. I've always felt uncomfortable when people move my things or when they even touch them. I've always liked things where they were; that is, where I put them.

Fate decided to toy with me, however. My whole family shared a single room. It was big enough to be counted as two bedrooms, but the design was to optimize the airconditioning capacity of the airconditioning unit. :D My parents occupied half, and my sister and I occupied the second half, a large white cabinet serving as the wall in between. There was only one long table where we could study, and only one other counter in which we can dump stuff on. The only space that I could messy up with nobody bothering me to do otherwise was the top bunk of the double decked bed me and my sister shared. It was a small space, but I loved it.

My beddings would change every 2-3 weeks or so, but I always picture my bed in bright checkered cloth – an old bed sheet from when I was still a kid. The wall in which I could prop up myself against was adorned with religious pictures – remnants of calendars we would get from the church. Above me was an exhaust fan which purpose was to drain the afternoon heat – but so far it only succeeded in disturbing my concentration. Near my feet lay a few issues Reader's Digest magazines dated anywhere between 1997 – 1999. Sometimes, a few library books would join their company. I would read those on boring afternoons when sleep would not come; I had exhausted all the books in the house, after all.

On hectic school days, the foot of my bed would be filled with half-finished homework, HUGE textbooks (usually Biology and Chemistry texts), and a pile of clothing waiting to be chucked into the laundry bin. My special place becomes my study space, my cram space, when my mother no longer allowed me outside to study. More often than not however, sleep drags me under before I could get a chance to fix the mess I had created in the process, and so I end up with crumpled half - finished homework. Apparently I am not a still sleeper. Sometimes, two out of the three pillows that I had with me when I went to sleep somehow end up in the floor. Sometimes, even my blanket joins them. I would wake up in the middle of the night just to retrieve my things, only to lose them again when morning comes.

I miss my special place. I left it, back in Davao. It really was the only place where I could connect with myself, and be honest with myself. Upon my arrival here in Metro Manila, and subsequently in the Ateneo Dormitories, I knew I had to find something similar to that special space. And so far, I haven't had any luck in finding any.

"On clear and peaceful nights like these,
There's nothing more I'd like to do
Than to lie down, under the heavens,
And to gaze at the stars with you...

-nEOnIX