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.