My bathroom is a time capsule. Since I moved in here nothing has changed in this room but me.

When I was 12, my friend stood on the other side of this door while I was yelling in frustration inside of it. She was reading the instructions to me over and over again like it would magically make it work this time. “Yeah, I know what to do, it’s just not working,” I said to her. I finally gave up and just didn’t swim at the beach that day. My friends told me I’d attract sharks if I went in.

This cruel, calculating machine I used to be a slave to now sits unused and forgotten in the corner. My parents bought me a scale to help me get healthy, but I worshipped the feeling of making the little machine happy. The damage it caused can’t be expressed in numbers.

When we moved into this house I was so excited to have a bathtub with jets. I was the first to use them. I filled the bath up and got in and turned them on. The bubbles were so entertaining, until I saw tiny black dots everywhere in the water, coating my body. A spider had laid its eggs in one of the jets. And they were being blasted right into my tub. I don’t really take baths anymore.

This bottle of gel was my holy bible when I was 13. I scrunched my hair everyday. It made the forced waves of my hair crispy and rock hard. I don’t know how or why I ever thought that was a good idea. But it was my look for far too long.

I’ve picked and plucked millions of hairs off this body while looking in this mirror. I wish i could go back in time and tell myself to leave my eyebrows alone.

One time when I was 17 this toilet seat was my pillow for a whole day. This floor design still haunts me. It wouldn’t stop spinning until I had emptied all of the raspberry smirnoff out of my stomach, which took far too long.

This was my first ever perfume. My stepmom was allergic to it and made me throw it away. I kept it as an act of rebellion, and wore it whenever she was mad at me

I found my very first stretch mark in this mirror and watched over the years as they blossomed into a spider web across my body.

When i was 11 I was mad that we didn’t really decorate our house for Christmas, so I put this snowman mug here to make the bathroom a bit more festive. That was 10 Decembers ago, and I dont think its ever moved from this spot since then.

When I was 12 I curled my hair for the snowball dance and I found my very first gray hair. I thought it meant I had started to die. It actually just meant I inherited shitty genes and will probably be all gray by 30.

I got in trouble the first time I ever shaved. My parents said I was too young but girls were mean and called me a wooly mammoth so I did it anyway. Now I’m hairier than most guys I know.

For some reason this little porthole window above the towel rack has the nicest view in the house. You can see the prettiest sunrise over the river in the morning. It’s probably why I’ll miss this room the most.

Jane Grogan’s short story “The Pines” won second prize in the Sixth Annual School of Visual Arts Writing Program Contest. Jane is a senior in the BFA Photo and Video Department at SVA.