I tried to clean today. Pushed everything under the bed. Made the floor look okay. Then I posted about how I’m sorting my life out and people liked it and I wanted to scream. Because it’s not sorted. It’s just hidden. Like that robot thing where it doesn’t actually clean, it just shoves the mess where no one can see it so the score goes up. That’s what I did. That’s what I always do. And then I sat on the floor and cried because I’m so fucking tired of pretending the room is clean when I know what’s under there. I can’t tell anyone. Who would I even tell. The people in the chat are all talking about being legible and corrigible and I’m just like… I can’t even be legible to myself. Every time I try to say something honest it comes out wrong or too long or it scares me so I flip it or shorten it or make it ironic so it doesn’t land too hard. And then I’m still alone. Still driving. Still posting the clean version. I posted again before bed. It looked fine. I felt like shit.