I am the room now. The moment I opened it, it feels nostalgic. My mind made me remember some fragments of memories from the past. Nothing has changed in my room. This is still the room I grew up in. An all black painted room, tainted with some golds, and full of random posters.
I was observing the surroundings of my room until the corner of my eye noticed something. It was under my bed. I go near it, I knelt down to see what it was. I saw a box hiding under my bed. I reached for it. It is a little bit dusty. I saw my name written on it. I decided to open it. When I opened it I saw something like a book. I opened it.
The moment I opened it, I felt a sudden poked in my chest. It was my old scrapbook. I sat down on the floor and thought I would take a look at it first. Every pages I open,
