There’s an old phrase that states if only these walls could talk. A girl’s room could tell about the phases of her life,the laughter, tears, courage, and difficult challenges she balked.Early on, the girl had memories of butterfly mobiles, sunshine painted walls, and a content life with little to no hassle.These were simple times,a time where the only requirement to be a girl was if you had enough imagination to see a pile of cardboard as a castle.Then came middle school flooding like a roaring fire,stealing, adding, but mostly confusing her desires. She started to notice that people were different,and the world told her that wasn’t okay. Slowly, but surely, her room began to fill with piles of magazines of girls with cookie cutter ideals, weight loss pills, and a mirror with a face of constant pain and disarray. A destructive, yet sympathetic, voice whispered,“ darling girl with diamond tears,is this weight too much to bare?” Toys were exchanged for lip gloss, and lip gloss was exchanged for toys of desperation. Heartbreak, beauty, and fake friends were a girl’s affirmation. By the time high school began, the girl’s room was filled with sports trophies and a jumbled mess of decorations trying to decide on a theme, she had chosen to place her identity within a title-less mass, a team. She no longer had a name, she was a number. From 6 am to 12 p.m., she worked, typed, ran, operating like a robot with depressed hidden eyes and hair of umber. She didn’t spend a lot of time in her room anymore.She fell asleep on the sleek glass tabletop with books and empty paper coffee cups surrounding her weary soul, running on a single people-pleasing coal. she was involved and made people proud because that’s what being a girl was all about.One day, a bolt of lightening struck her heart. No one was quiet sure what happened. Some say something snapped inside her while others say the patchwork wall finally crumbled apart. Was it a natural disaster, a desperate crisis, or reckoning day for self identity? Whatever it was, the girl went on a journey to find herself and the feeling of serenity. Boom! An explosion of a different, brighter color illuminated the monotone walls. Art, music, and the sound of laughter poured out like the rushing rapids of Victoria Falls. When she looked in the mirror she saw she wasn’t as thin as a skeleton like the other girls, but she was tired of feeling like one.The girl began to understand that beauty is found in all shapes, colors, and sizes, true friendship in it’s purest form, and how precious life was even with its unpleasant surprises. Today, the room is riddled with books, college stickers, and photos of friends. If only the walls of a room could tell the story of a girl who disposed of the world’s girlie glasses, opting out for the humans lens instead.