Someone once asked me what was my favourite room in the house.
Then without waiting for my answer, she laughed and answered herself.
It had to be my room, she beamed with a hundred watt smile, her voice confident and self-assured. Because my room was the place with all my books, with the computers, with the comfy bed and the guitars.
She walked off, drawn away by passing friends who beckoned at her with crooked fingers.
I was left standing by the squalid toilets, having uttered not a single word, my bottle poised halfway by the water cooler.
No, despite what some might think, my favourite room in the house is not my room, which is not even my own room, but a walled area I share with my sister. Yeah, the books might be there, I might write stories there, I might strum there. But I don't actually read there, I don't actually get ideas for stories by sitting for hours by my desk, and I do most strumming in the hallway, when no one else is home, so I can catch the fresh breeze from the balcony.
My favourite room in the house, is the toilet. Yes, I know it's not an actual room. I also know that we deposit our smelly faeces there, and not to mention the urine.
But seriously? The toilet, is the closest I can get to having privacy.
The toilet is where I go to hide and have embarrassing conversations with friends, unfit for fellow nosy family members to hear.
The toilet is where I seek relief from monthly cycles. Where I sit out deadly cramps as the white of the toilet bowl is stained by crimson liquid.
Where I cried my eyes out when Dumbledore died, when Akkarin died, when the Sisterhood seperated.
Where I practised the cha-cha in the shower for the dance exam, embarrassing as it is to admit.
Where I sat in the shower, hot water pounding on my back as I tried desperately to sort out all the warped ideas and images of a new story.
The toilet is where I sat crying for my dead goldfish, seven years ago.
The toilet is where I sought peace, leaning my head against the smooth, tiled walls as cold water pattered on my face, and I tried to blank out my mind, to find calm.
Where I always brought my laptop in, sit on the closed lid of the toilet bowl, and sob shamelessly for soppy movies I could not bear to watch with my family for fear of humiliation.
Where I first tried out acting, at nine years of age, thinking I was Mia Thermopolis.
Where I shed tears for friends I missed, for friends I feared would forget me.
It's the place most important to me, the place filled with most of my sorrows, my cheeriness, years of immatured naivete, months of pressured studying.
The toilet, is my inspiration.