After creating something pleasant, then destroying it, you will soon realize the feeling of picking up the pieces. Remembering back to when a very special young lady was holding on to a young man that brought her not but joy, or so she thought. Too blind to see through the mess he was conducting. Just a young girl trying to figure herself out while being taken advantage of. Until she finally came to the conclusion that the mess was nothing but bottomless pit of pain. Letting the tears fall gracefully on the floor while cleaning up the mess he left behind. She vowed to never live in clutter, to always be organized, to never be Cinderella again for a boy who wasn’t worth the mess to clean.
My memoir relates to my room due to the cleanliness of it. As you can see, my room is plain, simple and organized. After someone creating a mess and leaving you behind to clean it up, you will never let a mess play out. Instead of seeing how the story unfolds, you'll clean up before the party is over. The mop is in the closet because I use it often. There is no clutter because of how much I despise mess. Nothing is in my room for me to clean, that's the way I prefer it.