can’t seem to motivate myself to clean my room before I pass, I live with my parents and if I was in their position I would hate to deal with the mess. but a part of me also wants them to go through that labour, to peek into my disgusting small world. This is my home within a home, I never sought for any value in the real world, and it’s emotional facing that fact. I found a birthday card from an old friend that said something like “I hope you never leave my life”, I must’ve been really going through it for her to use that language, and I did leave her life a year later I think. these memorabilia make me feel like I used to be better at being human despite my unsavoury personality. when i look at old pictures of me, there seems to be no character behind those eyes, no care and no idea what the smiling people around her are feeling, just yearning to return to her bed and continue daydreaming in her own world where she has total control. she really can’t put the effort in to find her joy, can she? well then,,
I’ve made a small dent and I don’t like how long its taking, throwing everything out would be easy but I’m not sure what my parents would want to sell, i have a hard time determining value of things which is why i’ve hoarded a bit in the first place. would you feel guilty if you died and someone had to clean up after you?