My bedroom is a mess, completely cluttered and in disarray, but if I'm going to be honest, it's the perfect visual for my heart. Mismatched socks, dishes, trash, and a thousand other things I could never name litter the floor, as well as my bookshelf, nightstand, and dresser. I have a couple masks as well, because they're pretty and I can hide behind them and pretend not to be me for once.
My mother always scolds me for my appearance. Greasy hair and chipping nail paint are her two biggest complaints, aside telling me to lose weight, even if I am happy with myself. Not to mention the blemishes on my face and unshaven legs, both of which are cause for scorn under this roof. She asks why I don't make myself look nicer. My only thought is why take care of something you don't love.
