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And I scrub and scrub but nothing ever seems to get less. Sometimes it just gets more cluttered. And I get so overwhelmed, so drained of energy, I just want to let it pile up.
Who cares about making it look better or feel better or be healthy?
It never seems to amount to that good place anyways.
I don't even care about my body and self half the time...why my room? Why the way I look? Why what others think?
I don't know. I wish I cared more or right or whatever it would take to function.
I'm not meaning to overwhelm anyone or be a slob or a tornado or a freak. I just have so much trouble getting to the ending point of everything.
And my soul is dirty and stained it seems. No amount of washing and cleaning is ever going to fix this giant black mark inside me. Gah.
Why can't I be normal and do normal day things?
Why do the simplest little things overwhelm me so? What's wrong with me? Why does this simple part of existing make me so crazy?
If only I could clean up my mind...