An old rug.
Wrinkled clothes.
A pair of worn out Converse shoes.

A laptop computer.
A completely used writer's notebook.
A painting.
And some lists.

Lists of things that I would never like to become.
Lists of things I shall aspire to be the opposite as.
Lists of things I must change.

How I think I am a mess.
How I am used by people.
How I am so much like my father.
How I get far too attached to people.

A Hunger Games book.
Pens and pencils.
Ear-buds and key chains.
And lists.

This is my room.
This is my life.
And I must live it.