i have come to the conclusion that when my head is a mess, so is my room. no matter what attempts i make to clean and such, it looks like an explosion of depressed books, filthy clothes, smothered instruments, mindless posters, monotonous photographs, crappy paint, terribly enormous drawings that have no home, manky mannequin pieces and somewhere in all of that is a pile of squishy whiteness where i nap. alas; i need to sort out my life.
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