Cluttered

You know when you're cleaning your room because you're finally sick of your mom screeching in your ear and when you first walk into your room, you just kinda take in your mess?

That's how I've been kinda dancing around my life, never really beginning but just about to.

Recently I've gotten to that part where everything that was hiding under my bed is now covering my floor and it looks ten times more cluttered and hopeless than it did when I was just living in it, because now I have to go through every memory, every unclean moment, everything is laid out and it hurts to walk on.

I have an empty trash bag to my right and I'm hoping I can decide what I need and what I don't, but sometimes I feel like a hoarder.

I keep all my trauma and all my negative thoughts in boxes in all the corners of my room, never really knowing what their muffled curses say, but feeling the stings as it whips my back.

I feel surrounded and all my defenses are being attacked I want to scream at my walls for collecting this mess, and I want to claw away at the sheets that let me hide away.

But if you know anything about cleaning your room, it's that it gets worse before it's gets better.

And I think that's the only thing that's keeping me going