steffols
Posts: 7622
Joined: 3/10/2005 From: Jungleland
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My parents bought our house when I was 7. Before that we lived in a dingy, damp council flat. We moved in when I was 7 and I didn't officially leave that house until I was 23. I was in and out when I was going to uni and living in other places but I always ended up back at my house. So yeah, I had the same bedroom from when I was 7 years old until I was 23 and it was the best bedroom in the world. I still miss it. It was bright poppy red and I had the best posters, I had secrets in that room that no one knew about. God, I miss it. Not long after I moved out, my mum and dad stripped it and redecorated it for my brother. It's not my room anymore. It's weird, it doesn't even look like the room was mine for so long. When I visit home, my brother is forced back into his boxroom that he grew up in and I get my old room back but its never the same. Makes me sad. I don't think my parents will ever move. My brother was brought home from the hospital to that house and now he's 14. Plus, theres so much wrong with it, I think it would be impossible for them to sell!
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It's midnight in Manhattan, this is no time to get cute, it's a mad dog's promenade, So walk tall, or baby don't walk at all.
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