My mom cleaned my room.
She doesn't understand why that makes me so upset.
Nothings where it's supposed to be. Action figures and books in all the wrong places. My CDs.
My fucking CDs.
Had to shift through the garbage bag she left up here. Pencils and papers and pictures that I still wanted to keep are covered in grease and grim. My bookshelf is perpetually fucked, and she put all my stuffed animals in s bag.
It shouldn't be that big of a deal. I know it shouldn't.
But it is. And no one gets that.
I cried. I ate Starbursts and got over it. Gonna rearrange my room tomorrow. Get it back the way I want it.
This shouldn't have upset me so much. There's something wrong.
Times like these when I wish I had a therapist...
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