So, my clothes have sprawled out all across my floor. It's going to take at least three hours to do all of my laundry. This is the reality of mental illness. When it becomes more than words on a screen or crying to a friend over the phone and it actually starts interrupting your life. I'm going to flip my light switch on, sort this shit, hang up the stuff that's not actually dirty (which is probably a lot of it,) and then get it clean.
Cleaning is the fun part of getting better.
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