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a dramatic life reading

“I want to talk about “mess”. Mess as an environment and a way of life. I don’t like mess over order and have always been taught to be neat, but I guess this demonstrates the reality and intricacies of life that are difficult to admit. My parents used to nag, “your environment reflects yourself mental state!”
“Tidy your room,” they said. Living away from home for the first time now, the haphazard chaos and disorder is perhaps telling and poetic. My inner and outer states are no longer governed by rules or peoples’ standards (my room is mine alone!!! All my shit can be pink, all my stuff can be everywhere!). It was an outburst waiting to happen.

Perhaps it might offend you, the utter state of my cursed reality that sought immediate redress. It was meant to be my happy place, but the mess I was so afflicted with gnawed at my head and devoured my heart. I lived in the mess, with that mess, as the mess. The clutter became my community. There was no method in the madness.

My dad used to warn me when I first arrived of how Freshers go crazy because they finally experience freedom away from home. Lives on the cusp of adulthood, perhaps? For twenty years I lived with a maid who cleaned up after all my mess and suddenly I found myself without. I discovered that arguments arise from people’s need to be immaculate. Some people live spick and span- they make their beds every morning; they leave no clothes on the floor. Their discipline in chamber appearances trickled into every aspect of their decent lifestyles. Except it was clear from the very start- they all had neat rooms.

I guess my parents were right after all."