My Messy Mind

My room is unbelievably messy. The few flat surfaces I have, covered in bottles of cheap makeup and antibiotics I didn’t finish.

I tell my roommates the mess doesn’t bother me. That I thrive in the chaos that is my room. But truth be told, I want it clean.

I read somewhere that the state of your room is a reflection of your state of mind. If that’s true, I need a therapist.

Or maybe a maid.