A room with a view of another room with a view

So, in my neverending tirade against le foyer and all that it represents, I'd like to give y'all a walking tour of my room, the most apt description of which I found while reading a short story by James Baldwin, "...and my books and my suitcase, both unpacked; and my dirty clothes flung in a corner. It was the kind of room that defeated you."

From the nearly transparent sheets that are changed at a two-week interval, the oversized tampon of a pillow, which provides as much support as a dead-beat dad, my three different patterns of wallpaper, all of which look like the sheets your parents had on their bed in the early eighties, to the fact that my faucet rarely ever stops dripping long enough for me to regain my sanity, or that every hallway is painted in a primary color, my room thoroughly defeats me.