Library.

My brain is a cluster of nonsense right now, too full of mindless thoughts to invoke any meaningful emotions about this room. Yet what does anyone accomplish by focusing on what we think cannot complete?

A library is obviously a room full of memories and stories by hundreds of people no one really knows. There stories leap from a white and black page and embed themselves into our lives and control your emotions. Underneath me, a hard wood chair supports my weight and allows me to relax, if only for a second. A tight cocoon of books caresses my body and corner me on all for sides, you would imagine it to be uncomfortable, yet to my surprise, its actually more like a smooth down blanket of endless knowledge, there to comfort and soothe in times of fright. Voices of people I know, and people I don't know fill the air with a jumble of sounds that do not resemble any words that I know. A harsh aggravated"shhhhhh!" comes from behind a tacky off white counter, as a ill faced librarian looks at us with disgust from under her smudged glasses, and the jumble of sounds quites to a mellow whisper, if even that, and only for a moment of time. A room that could be so many things, is dedicated sully to the purpose of supplying kids a never ending plethora of books. And in return, a crinkled nose and a sea of whines are the only response when expected to read one of them. And yet, to me, this room plastered with bird poop white walls, uncomfortable hard wood chairs, and angry students and librarians, is a comfortable haven of endless knowledge and entertainment.