Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Messy messy Teenage girl Room

You see clutter.
I see belongings.
You see mess.
I see system.
You see chaos.
I see organization.
You see crumpled paper.
I see potential art.
You see stuffed animals.
I see remnants of my childhood.
You see the different colors and textures.
I see the years of my life, amassed in my furniture and my curtains and my bed sheets.
You see empty water bottles.
I see evidence of exercise.
You see Hello Kitty beside a Ferrari, Captain America beside Elmo.
I see my loves through the years.

Funny how we can be looking at the same thing, and we see something so different.  Funny how I am at home in my mish-mashed chaotic lair, and you would rather walk on glass than work, or read, or eat, or think, or write, in here.

Well, it's a good thing it's my domain, then, isn't it?  I'll just come out ant talk to you, in the no-man's land of the hallway.

Could it be cleaner?  Why, of course. I'm not saying it's perfect.  But it is bearable.  And right now, bearable is about all we got.

You can attest to that, can't you?

STOP

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