Tape

Remember the days when we shared a room with a sibling? After big fights I remember pulling out the duct tape and slapping a long strip across the middlest part of the room. Trying to slice the closet, dresser, and other items in half, in order to keep out the enemy. "Don't cross my line. And I won't cross yours!" The rules were simple: No crossing the line! No taking things from the other side, no throwing things to the other side, keep to your own side. One time I even got the sheets out and taped the sheets to the ceiling above the middle line to keep from seeing the enemy. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't take anything that belongs to me, don't touch anything that isn't yours, and most definitely don't cross the line!" I remember yelling these things to the enemy and not regretting a single word. Until hours later when I was lonely and bored. But due to a stubborn bone inside me, I never confessed or apologized. I would hold out strong and steady until the enemy surrendered. Sometimes it was a matter of minutes, other times hours, and once a week. And to think that I was sure I grew out of this habit many, many years ago when I stopped sharing a room.