My room resembles the mess I’ve become.
Beneath clothes and bags and empty bottles, there is still ground.
But don’t step onto it with too much confidence,
chances are – you will break something.

Everyday I add a new layer,
tell myself I will clean up tomorrow,
maybe the day after that.

There is a line around my bed – in my head.
Crossing this boundary means
stepping into a world
I don’t want to be a part of.

But I was never asked.
So I flee,
into dreams,
and netflix,
and solitude.

Because if I don’t step out of this bed,
for a while,
I can pretend that the world is alright.
That the mess I made
is already cleaned up.
That life goes on.

And I tell myself that I will clean up today.
Every morning.
Because seeing the floor painfully reminds me
that the world is not alright.
And that life will eventually go on,
But never again in the way it used to.

I thought about getting up and dressed.
But I think I’ll just sleep for a while.


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