Get your shit together. Get it all together and put it in a backpack. All your shit, so that it’s together. And if you’ve gotta take it somewhere, take it somewhere. Take it to the shit store and sell it or put it in a shit museum. I don’t care what you do, you just gotta get it together. Get your shit together.
My house is a mess. An absolute mess. A mountain of clothes blocking the door and dishes upon dishes some with…you know…mould. Yeah. I’ve been living like I have no standards. Though this week I haven’t really had any have I? I’ve been a mess. I’m a mess. It’s strange…it’s like everything stopped and so did I and as much as I pretend to keep going…I’m not. It’s a lie.
It needs to end.
I can’t just stop. I can’t just shut down and pretend that everything’s okay. It’s not.
I need to clean my house.
I need to exercise and stop eating cereal every damn night.
I know the hurt won’t go.
I know the motivation won’t appear in seconds.
I know that I need to start moving so that I can move on.