The clean kind of messy.

I have found that I feel better when I’m surround by a little bit of mess. You know the mess that just looks unkept but you know where everything is. I feel like it’s how you know the room is loved, it’s like a little insight into their minds. You know someone loves a place when they leave stray socks in the hallway but never really pick them up or when they leave their coats on the back of the sofa.

I know that it annoys my mom that I don’t put all my clothes away, that I just leave them on my desk. But I know that if I put them away, I will probably never find them again. Also how when I come home from school, how I leave my jackets and shoes in places that she deems inconvenient. To her, everything I do seems like chaotic and makes no sense to her. I’m like crazy scientist because there is a method to my madness. The mess makes sense, to me aleast, it keeps everything in order. I always know where my things are, for the most part.

But I think the need for mess has followed me into life. I mean I know life is messy but I meant into my friendships. I love going over to my best friends house because her house looks alive because there is mess. My high school english teacher is my favoite because she has books laying out all over her class room but she knows where the one she needs is at all times; her desk is covered in stacks of paper but she knows what stack is for what class. In my school work, everything looks unorganized but yet everything makes sense. My writings seem out of order in times but in my mind they make sense. The way I dress makes me look a mess but I tell people that mess is my style because I hate wearing matching socks. My hair is always a brids nest but I like it. The mess has become part of my personally.

Yet at the same time of loving a little mess, I don’t like it. Once the mess gets to out of hand, I can’t stand it. If I can’t find something, everything needs to be clean and put in a perfect spot until I tossle everything around again. The mess has to be an organized for me to feel comforble in it. I dread going to my science class because my teacher is literlly Ms.Frizzle on durgs. She loses more papers than any other teacher that I have had. But that’s only reason why I don’t like the class, the unorganized mess makes me crazy.

A little mess never killed anyone…….right?