Am I THAT predictable?

Being a first year, I have the pleasure of living in halls. And for anyone, that means you have the chance to turn a room into a home, no matter how hard it may seem at times. It took me a while, but I feel like I left my room in Sandby as an almost finished piece, I'm not 100% sure what's missing yet, but I can basically sum it up in five words: rose gold, grey, cream and pink. Oh and lot's of fairy lights.

But that was a new start for me, coming back to my room at home was the big shock. I have yellow walls, for starters, which in the sun is actually quite rewarding but also very wrong when I have blue carpet. Yes that's right, B L U E. But I no longer have any legs to stand on when it comes to arguing the case of redecoration with my parents, as I've fully flown the nest and all, so I make do with what I've got. I've got one yellow wall covered in some pretty funky wall paper, fabric hanging from the ceiling over my bed, I've got my gold framed mirrors and another shit load of fairy lights.

Now those two rooms are pretty different in comparison right? Cos I like to think of myself as the quirky type, a bit unpredictable and maybe doing things slightly different. My dad's always called me a freak but a freak in the best way.

Christmas Day proved me wrong.

Turns out I am mega predictable. I don't know whether this happened recently or whether my mum has just finally figured out what I'm actually like but the inner immature teenage voice inside my head is telling me to prove her wrong. I am literally taking back my Sandby room in clothes form to uni. I'm semi in heaven, I'm semi in hell I'm not going to lie. But at present, I have trousers, a phone, pyjama's and nails that are all ROSE GOLD.

I've also got a grey jacket, cream tops, grey trainers, pink scarf (but I do always have pink everything) and I'm scared that I'm actually completely satisfied by this colour palette and that it will define me for the rest of my life without me even realising.

I do find it fascinating though how my mum can now look at clothes and see me in it, like somehow my identity carries out into pieces that I never knew existed until I saw it in a shop. And how, after 19 years, I can finally see myself in my pile of presents. Like I know that my style and personality has that much of an impression on someone that I have no become one of those people who are 'buyable' for. Literally, bizarre.