Art of avoidance

My room is easier to clean than my life.

I’ve got tons of s**t to do,
Deadlines stacking like bricks in a wall,
The weight pressing down,
But here I am-
Staring at the mirror, asking myself,
“What the hell are you doing?”

I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’m kind of a mess.
A beautiful mess, maybe,
But a mess nonetheless.

I should be grinding,
Climbing,
Finding my way through this chaos.
Instead...
I cleaned my room.
Again.

I scrubbed the corners of my mind,
Hoping that maybe if I made my bed,
I could make my life.
But nope-
The clutter is still there,
Just not under the chair.

I folded clothes like I could fold my fears,
Stacked books as if they could stack my dreams.
Organized shelves like I could organize my thoughts.
But nothing works.
Nothing sticks.

The to-do list stares me down,
Mocking me with every unchecked box,
Screaming,
“You’re running out of time!”

But hey-
At least my room’s clean.
At least I can sit in my chaos with a vacuumed floor,
Pretending that order exists somewhere.
Maybe not here.
But somewhere.

So I’ll put the mop down,
Grab my s**t,
And do what needs to be done.
But first…
Maybe I’ll clean the windows.