I think I'm writing the longest essay in all her classes

My teacher said no one had ever used more than one typed, double-spaced page. I did.
Here's my descriptive essay on the auditorium at our school, tell me what you think:

The door is heavy- it’s one of the first things you notice. As it crashes back into place behind you, the walls rising up two stories high on either side catch your eye. The otherwise intimidating effect is ruined by patterns of windows made in two shades of cyan and a diminished salmon pink. Slightly tacky? Yes, but what’s sacrificing a bit of dignity for some memorable art?
Window shock recedes and you are faced with a million rows of shiny, angular red seats. You pick one just below the balcony where your face is hidden in shadow. You’re barely comfortable, the plastic is hard and cold - all you want at this point is to lay down on the carpeted floor, thinking it may have at least a bit of softness. To tilt your head back over the top of the seat just sounds painful, but you do it anyway.
The chandeliers in the faded aquamarine ceiling are old and, well, you always did wonder how they changed the light bulbs on something that high up – judging from here, they don’t. Newer looking lights fill in the gaps, but their harshness doesn’t quite reach the ground, leaving it dim where you sit.
Straightening your neck, you breathe in deeply, and in the stone-cold silence can hear yourself. The air would be rather foul-smelling, with kids coming in and out all day, if the room hadn’t been so large. As it was, there was a staleness in the air-conditioned room. It’s a reminder that the only windows in here are painted on the walls.
Every door is closed, it’s completely empty except for you. Usually, you can ignore your own breathing, but now it’s the only sound you can hear, even though you’re convinced that if you held your breath you could hear your heartbeat. It really is that quiet. Quiet as the grave. Quiet as dinosaur bones. Quiet as a hamster walking across the snow. Quiet as…
You yawn.
And then you look toward the front of the large hall. To the right is a dark archway. To the left is another, but in the middle is a much greater structure, a large, boxy cave built into the wall. Surrounded by a frame of intricate wood, there are two sets of wooden steps leading onto the platform, but you can only see so much of it. The curtain is down, rippling like a calm sea, looking soft as silk from far away. It reminds you of your uncomfortable parch and a sudden coldness makes you shiver. You feel the need to wrap yourself in the crimson drape, and find that the novelty of falling asleep in a scratchy stage fixture appeals to your sense of the dramatic.
It definitely does.
But as you stand, you slowly turn to face the pair of double doors that separate the three columns of seats from each other and you from humanity. With the first few steps you take, you are swallowed completely by shadow once again, and the clang of a heavy door soon announces your triumphant departure.