I have heard it all
When someone walks into my room I hear the same things
"You have a lot of stuff"
"It is really cluttered in here"
"Hoarder"
I couldn't dispel those things if I tried
That doesn't mean that those words don't affect meLet me tell you why I feel the need to have worldly possessions as I do
I collect anything that sparked a little bit of joy
In hopes that if I get enough of those things I might be happy
I know that is not how things work
But that is what I have subconsciously been chasing
I know my room is a mess
I find it to be home to me
My head is a mess
My room is reflective of what is constantly happening up there
I hate it.
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What Life Is
PoetryThe poetry journal of a senior in high school. Raw and virtually unfiltered emotions from someone with a lot going on.