“I have never met anyone messier than you. I don’t know how you can live like this,” my mom would often say.

Then she would point out how unkempt my room is, how I never make my bed, how I never clean my bathroom, etc.

To be honest, I don’t choose to be messy, unkempt, or disorganized. My brain just works better this way. Ideas seem to flow better when there are disorder around. Sometimes, if a room or a place is too organized, anxiety would start seeping into my core and sometimes, it would make me want to pull my hair out.

I am not always messy and unkempt though. There are days when I would spend an hour to several hours cleaning and organizing to the point when I’m satisfied. I remember this one time when my mom came into my room, shock covering every inch of her face, “What’s gotten into you?” She had asked.

I had shrugged. My room was the pristine definition of organized and clean. All my books and notebooks were neatly stacked, all the dust was wiped from laptop, and my bathroom was spotless with a hint of air freshener fragrance.

However, within a week of the extreme makeover, my room and bathroom were reverted to the state of disorganization and unkemptness.

Theme: Of all the things I am

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