My Room

Living in my house in madness with my father. My mother gets it. That I’m different and that my room being full of stuff is just who I am. My dad thinks that having every inch of my room covered in pictures is overwhelming. He thinks that my dresser covered in stuff isn’t good. Having my room like that is sooo calming. The rest of the world expects me to be organized and together. In my room, my domain, I can just let everything out and it can be my place to be unorganized and free. I wish my dad could see that.