such a silly game

she has this room below the top level of her house.
it’s in the back corner, and she sometimes uses it for parties.
but when I turned up there in the holidays, she used it for her world.
it was messy and cluttered… and typically her.
and I found it so comforting.
to begin with.
but after a bit, I started getting this sadness.
like this place had trapped her.
all of the disorganization and chaos of that room.
and I couldn’t help asking myself
“when does she get to fucking escape it?”
“why won’t anyone let her be free?”
her normal bedroom was like it too…
and I just couldn’t understand why things weren’t better
why she didn’t just clean it up?
why didn’t anyone clean it up?
it would make things easier.
and I was infuriated that she didn’t.
so I tried. And I organised it.
and she thanked me.
because she liked it clean.
but it wasn’t long before it got messy again,
and it wasn’t cleaned for months after.
because this room… in the back corner of the bottom level of her house,
which was sometimes used for parties,
this mess… wasn’t just her own little world in those holidays… it was her escape.
i just didn’t see it like at the time.
i was too desperate trying to fix things for her.

and if i learnt anything during those holidays,
it was that i must trust my closest friends a lot more.
not with my own pain,
but with theirs.

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