The soft linens and fabrics envelop me as I get into my bed, making me feel at ease. 

Whether it is to do homework, take a nap or just chill, my bed has always been my first choice. I consider my bed to be my spot. A place where no one else can go. A place where only I can be left alone in peace with me, myself and I.

Since I first got it five years ago, I have always loved my bed. I still remember the first few days sleeping in it. After years of sleeping in my parents’ room, I was unfamiliar with being on my own, especially at night, due to being scared of the dark. My bed was my safe spot. The soft pillows, combined with the warm comforter, protected me from the “monsters” of the darkness.  

Over the years, I’ve developed a bond with my bed. The food stains covering the bed sheet, although my parents told me to not take food out of the kitchen, the random wrappers hidden beneath the pillows discovered by my parents on random Saturdays and the awkward orientation of my comforter are a symbol of my comfort. 

My bed is a place to rejuvenate and refresh. Whether I’m struggling with a project, stressed about a test or mad about topics ranging from parents’ demands to my grades, my eight hours of sleep in my bed provide me with a momentary break. 

Now, I know this may sound like an unconventional study or work spot, but when you come home from a seven-hour school day, who really wants to sit at yet another desk to do more work? My bed is a convenient place to do what I want. Instead of sitting in a stiff chair for hours at a time, I can stretch and do my homework on a soft, comfy surface. 

I’m grateful for my bed – something needed but also comforting to everyone. It is important to appreciate the mundane things in our lives, as they are capable of making an astounding difference.

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