Today she had had enough.

She laid in bed and surrounded herself with her trusty pillows, the only things that would witness her diminished self. When the stupidity of crying finally sunk in, the eyes of the flustered female had nothing else to do but wander.
All four walls of her room traited symbols and furnishing that had been ignored and forgotten over the last year. The collection of pictures that bordered her closet have been the same photographs from years back. The significance of most have been dismissed and most of the people photographed no longer maintained the same appeal to the girl. The necklaces that hung by the door have not been worn since they took their place. And every piece of furniture has not been moved since.
She began to wonder about her distant relations to her own room. Isn't a room supposed to be filled with the little trinkets of the owner's life? She pictured the joys and comfort of being able to walk through her door and lay within the aura of her own sensibility after a long day of reality. But where would she even be able to begin? What things would she replace or restore? Wouldn't everything end up being meaningless all over again? What would mean anything to this girl?
It seemed to be that this living space was just consisted of endless clutter. Or perhaps our little girl really had no clue about her own self.