Every time I clean my room I feel like I’m in someone else’s room other than my own. No matter how nice everything looks, it just doesn’t seem right to me. It reminds me of leaving. Mess to me equals lived in. The only time everything is neat and organized is when it is all boxed up ready to go somewhere else. I don’t know, I guess I just realized that I like stepping over piles of junk. It feels like home.