I cleaned my room today.

In retrospect, it was filthy, though for the while since the last time I cleaned it to now, it really didn’t feel that way at any point. Small bundles of hair and dust strewn around the floor tiles, little bugs dead in the corners, pieces of dirt caked into the floor; all of that seemed normal. For a moment, I could look at them and truly believe they’d always been there. It was only after I cleaned my room that I realized that there were things that shouldn’t be, and even some of the things that should be were in the wrong place.

Now, the walls feel whiter than they’ve ever been and I don’t feel anxious about walking around barefoot — something I didn’t even realize I was feeling until I didn’t need to feel it any longer. It’s like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. Like someone had slowly put progressively bigger rocks in my shoes to the point where the annoyance turned to pain which turned to blood and infection, and even looking at the wound I saw my feet as they’d always been, and I had to wash my socks more often for some other reason, and I must’ve walked over some filthy places for my shoes to be in that state. Only after taking the damn rock out of my shoe do I remember what it’s like to walk without pain.

That was maybe the worst metaphor I have ever come up with. It’s honestly impressive how fucking terrible that was. I realized halfway through writing that that it was ridiculous but, for your amusement, I have decided to keep that paragraph in.

I mean it though, about my room. It feels great not to live in filth. I just always forget how good it is to be clean; I get used to being dirty way too easily.

It does make me wonder what other parts of my life are dirty.

Today, I spoke to my parents. We talked a little bit about money. My mum said that money should be used to improve my living situation. I know I’m making sacrifices, and I don’t feel bad about them, but maybe I’m just used to a dirty room. Maybe I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live comfortably. I am trying to use my money to improve my living situation — just, in the future. I want to improve how I’m gonna like in 20 years. I don’t want to have to work and struggle, I want to rest and enjoy my time. That’s why I work today, so I may not work tomorrow. That’s how I want to use my money. Maybe this is ridiculous, I don’t know. Maybe I should just spend some bucks on a better room, or get an apartment with heating. I don’t think so, but I do think it’s worth thinking about, so I will.