Writing Prompt

I don’t like it this way My mind is in the wrong place I can’t think straight I don’t know if I want to

I can’t keep it clean anymore My thoughts My words My room

I Don’t wanna wake up I just want to sleep until I can’t sleep anymore and then I’ll sleep again

There is dishes on my desk cups and forks and plates Clothes on the floor Did i wear that yesterday?

I feel trapped my room is so small yet it holds so much pure emotion

Posters falling off the walls Painting chipping from the frame The door is creaky and the windows do not look the same

Have not brushed my hair Have not changed my clothes slept past noon Havnt left the house in a while

I know it seems dramatic But I am stuck here alone I don’t have depression So don’t take this the wrong way

I am lonely as can be Because no one wants to be friends with me I dont read anymore all i do is scroll

Help me get rid of this messy room Please help me pick up my shattered pieces I beg you to listen And maybe stay for awhile

Things scattered Cluttering around what matters If only you could see Past the walls that protect me

A toy army soldier A castle out of blocks A queen hides inside Surrounded by spare socks

A overturned basket With contents behold An obstacle to face For you to see past my mold

Tricks and turns A maze along the way A soldier on a horse To lead you the wrong way

To find me you must look Past the walls that guard me Don’t bait me with a hook And try to call me

I will reply If you make it to me A damsel in distress Or a maiden scared of who will reach me

My mental room is cluttered, Full of useless objects. Little trinkets I don’t need, Lying useless on the floor, The dresser, The desk. They’re not hurting me, But they’re all just… There. So many things, So many unnecessary things. They’re all over the place, No order, No pattern. It almost makes me claustrophobic. As if all the space that’s being used Leaves no room for me. And the windows don’t really help. I used to see sunny skies, Forests of joy and smiles. Now the view changed, What happened? All I see is clouds and rain, Cliffs of fear and longing. So I shut the window. I closed the curtains. I detached the outside from my room. My perfect, Wonderful, Cluttered, Claustrophobic, Terrifying room.

That’s… that’s not right. No. No. So I opened the curtains. Not a dramatic “throwing-open-the-doors,” But… still. It felt important. And even through the clouds, The sunlight is a hazy stream into my room. The natural light really does help. And the rain is a soft tap, Urging me on.

I can do this.

So I pick up the nearest object. A silver tinted memory of a friend I lost. We just fell out of touch, I guess. I want to stare at it, To get lost in the pain and regret. But no. I have a job. So I open my jewelry box, My eyes catching on all the sparkly objects. My fingers trail over each item.

And then I shut the box. And I move on. And I pick up another object. And put it away. And do it again. And again. And again.

When I finally settle, I’m proud. I did a lot. I did my best. And it feels like I can breathe again. This is… this is nice. So I’ll do it tomorrow, And the day after that. I’ll keep doing it, Until my room is organized. Clear. And I know it will take a long time. I won’t finish tomorrow, Or the day after that. But I’ll try.

And that will be enough.

Shards of glass scattered from a mirror broken in the fight. Necklaces spilling out of a jewlerly box knocked on the ground by a missed attack. A chair on its side knocked over during my fall. Blood smeared across the floor from my attemps to escape. My body thrown on the floor once you were finished with me. You never liked cleaning up your messes.

A room, so messy. Unorganized. OCD is a bitch. Crash and burn.

“I’m okay.” No I’m not. “Yes you are.” Shut the fuck up.

Night Lovell on the speakers. CORPSE in the bass. 7xvn screams.

Stuff on the wooden floors. Bodies. Liquid runs down the walls. Blood. Scars dot my wrists like bracelets. Deleting bitches like a video game.

Tell the dog go home, and he will. He’s breathless in my bed, ocean. Running the slaughter house, boss. Round corners, I keep him on a leash.

Savage Gasp, pump the music up. MGK sung his hit song “emo girl.” You know I love a fucking blood bath.

Blades out, teeth bared. Got him tied down, anchored. Puppy taught well, hell hound. Chains around his perfect neck. My name in his mouth like honey.

“Have mercy.”

Had him singing Amazing Grace. Falling at my knees, the gore. Blade in his skull, smashed. Knives dripping, tongue out. Letting the curtains drop. Mic drop, show’s over.

My room was in a word, chaotic My bed unkempt, my desk lackluster Closet door couldn’t even shut It was such a disaster

Shorts on the floor Underwear on the ceiling fan Mom was sick of my messy room Told me “Come up with a plan.”

“I want a plan to clean up your messy room if you can Because if you can’t then you are grounded young man.”

“And I want it done today!” “Today you say!?” replied I “That’s so impossible the thought makes me cry

But it was of no use The old hag wouldn’t budge No use putting it off With cleaning supplies I did trudge

But as I worked and vacuumed and scrubbed and folded and trashed and washed I thought, “Ah well, life is still grand.”

The books were piled, stacks on the floor Interspersed with clothes and trinkets. Who knew what was clean? Who knew what was dirty, Be it books or crumpled shirts?

The bed, unmade, was unwelcoming, The covers wrinkled, the quilt on the floor. Was this a place for deep sleep? Who knew what the boy dreamt Be it lovely tales or nightmares?

Unconventional feelings forming an infamous floordrob right next to my wardrobe. Abandoned goals hidden under my bed. Diminished dreams loom over me in a mound by my door, trapping me, mocking me, scolding me. A projection of my intrusive thoughts lain in uncompleted, unorganised chaos. A reflection of my mind strewn into reality. Trapped within myself. No way out, just Me. Myself. And I.

At home I have a messy room, Stuff is everywhere, Pens and pencils, paper, paints, Adorn the floor and chair.

But looking past the mounds of things, A system is in place, And every thing does have a home, A designated space.

If you take a look around, And take a closer look, Every thing is organised In each and every nook.

my room is dirty but don’t worry my heart is broken my door is not open