Fragmented

Bittersweet

Present

She didn't mean for it to get this bad. The girl's eyes flickered from the heaps of clothing that covered the floor over to the unpacked suitcases that lined the blue walls from a trip four months ago. A variety of clothing, both washed and unwashed, enveloped her feet which made it difficult for any person to conveniently walk in the sea of messiness she called her room. Scanning the room that surrounded her, she felt a wave of embarrassment and shame crash upon her. Though, the girl's room wasn't always this messy and disorganized. There were times where she was able to walk freely in her room and stand a close inch away from her smudged mirror that was mounted on the wall. She remembered being able to sit in her swivel chair and spin across the floorboards of her room whilst laughing, and she remembered being able to sit in front of her mirror to do her makeup and straighten her hair inside of her personal space and not in the bathroom next room over.

She really didn't mean for it to get this bad. Her family members who stepped foot in the girl's room thought she was a slob, a lazy person, and some even claimed her to be a person who just simply liked living in filth. Yes, all these claims made against the girl initially hurt, but she eventually grew accustomed to hearing such insults and remarks made her way. She reminded herself that she knew herself better than anyone who based her personality off of the tiny pieces of trash or half-empty water bottles that littered her room instead of other important factors. What everyone else in her family failed to realize is that beneath, and sometimes quite literally beneath, the heaps of clothing and the pessimistic water bottles, was the girl's real personality right there on display. If one of those people actually attempted to ignore the mess and study her room, they'd actually notice the vibrant anime and video game posters proudly plastered on her walls, her tiny little anime figures on her dresser, and even her extensive collection of young adult, romance, and fantasy books along with pop albums that occupied her glass shelf. Her parents' room was right across the hall from hers, as clean as can be, and even further down the hall lived one of her aunties and one of her uncles—again, their room was also as clean as can be. The short, physical distance between her room and her family members' rooms were only a few feet apart, but the emotional distance between them spanned for miles on end. This filled family house that everyone around her resided in and called home did not feel like a home. Instead, the girl's room was more reminiscent of an isolated house in the middle of nowhere, just her and her mess, utterly alone.

Funny enough, the girl did not really invite friends or even her peers over. She usually blamed her lack of company on her disinterest in expending her social battery even while at home, but a part of her knew that was not entirely the case. Her routine when she would arrive home would be staying in her car for exactly ten minutes, entering the house as quietly as possible to avoid engaging in conversation with any of her family members, then napping in her room for a few hours until the sky grew a certain shade of dark blue. She had no time for inviting her friends over as her afternoon routine was already set in stone, and having friends over would only disrupt the tiny presence of balance in her life that she very much valued. Though, the girl as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, was ashamed. Ashamed of her room, ashamed of how she let things get this bad, even ashamed of certain things she owned that others were likely to deem childish. Her friends would only judge her like the rest of her family did, and it did not make sense for her to invite people over to a space where they can barely fit in, let alone walk freely in.

One late night during the previous summer, the girl laid on her bed. It was 2:30 a.m. and here she was aimlessly scrolling through any social media app that she owned. She utilized social media to make up for her absence during the afternoon and late-night escapades her friends would venture on without her. Understandably, the girl would feel pangs of jealousy and exclusion at viewing the group photos her friends would consecutively spam on their respective Instagram stories. As much as she longed to be more closely connected with her friends, the act of even socializing with anyone for hours on end was extremely draining. Social media was her way of coping with her lack of social interaction outside of school, and her mindlessly scrolling through apps eventually became a habit she could not let go of. It went more like this actually: Scroll. Close app. Open another app. Repeat. Over the course of the many sleepless nights she had endured, she unknowingly perfected her own routine of cycling between apps.