jealous

Sometimes I get jealous about other people's possessions, just how they're able to maker their living space feel like their own.

My room is pretty basic, blue and black walls, A door that hasn't been changed since I can remember, a bed with a broken bedframe.

The cabinets are filled with clothes that I'll never wear, piles and piles of clothing on the walls that I'll also never, I'll never be comfortable to wear them anymore and I can't even throw them away.

Years of clothes that I hated my whole life is in that room, that filthy yet comforting room.

That isn't my room and this isn't my house, at least it doesn't feel like it.