Her room was chaos; clothes thrown everywhere, bed unmade, and junk piling every open spot. Even though her father told her time and time again that she needs to find a solution to this trainwreck, the messiness never seemed to cease. She had attempted to tidy up, but somehow the mess would always return; always lurking in the back of her mind, taunting her every second. She washed her ***** clothes, threw away the trash, got rid of unnecessary items, but the mess always returned. She began to lose hope, nothing would bring this to an end. Each time she tried to stop the mess it grew stronger and got progressively worse. Her friends had started telling her she needs to clean her, but she always had an excuse. She would constantly say how she was always too busy, but it was a lie; she had all the time in the world, but she knew her friends just wouldn’t understand how the mess was her own personal bully; it never left her alone and it was a constant reminder of how her disorderly her life had become. One day, she finally broke. Her goal to have a clean room had been demolished and engrossed into the mess itself; similar to her other goals and aspirations. The mess began to spread; her locker overflowed with useless papers, her car filled to the brim with futile garbage; it followed her everywhere. The grogginess from her bedroom poured into the sky, turning it a terrifying shade of gray; lessening her hope drastically. Every single thing she did contributed to the mess and she just couldn’t take it anymore. She went home and just lay there in her unkempt bed with her ***** laundry and empty water bottles and she allowed the mess to overtake her. She stayed trapped inside this mess she created until it consumer her; like it had consumed every other aspect of her life. She never found a solution to the never ending mess.