Standing in the door way to our room,
I see the filth..
From the mess of clothes to the untouched
My depression prevents me from picking up the piles of mess I surround myself in.
Messy people are brilliant right?

As I tease myself that I’ll pick them up tomorrow, laying weeping in our bed.

From the piles of clothes to mess of my life, to the weight gain.. through the weight loss

Today I hate my outward appearance I don’t love myself..