I am also a writer, my daily life, my diary, my balance.

More and more hair falls on the floor, the kitchen is covered with dishes that haven’t been washed yet, and the laundry basket is stacked with clothes.

“Are you all right now?”

It’s a signal from my filthy room.

I wake up every morning and write down the To Do List of the Day, and write a diary at the end of the day, looking back on myself of the day and living a given day diligently.

No matter how tired you are, no matter how tired you are or how late you overslept, your disheveled bed is neatly arranged as a mark of me last night. It’s not even for anyone to look at, but I don’t want to see the dishes piled up in the kitchen, so I clean them up diligently every time the dishes pile up.

At one point, however, cracks in the perfect balance of my daily life, and the gap grows and starts to shake uncontrollably. a meal with acquaintances

Late at night, they come in by taxi and search for what’s disturbing about the remaining drunkenness, and the time when everyone sleeps, and the happy-looking daily lives of their acquaintances on quiet Instagram. Rather than knowing how the world is going, I am falling into Netflix dramas that can easily forget reality. I skip even my daily diary.

This disorganized state of my mind is revealed through my messy house. There is no spare bowl to use because it hasn’t been washed yet, so I give up cooking, and the refrigerator grows vegetables that sprout.

Phew, but I’m relieved that I noticed the signal from my room. Recognizing a noticeable disorder means that you’re getting up again in a broken life and already finding balance. Like the bruise that looks the brightest when the pain is already lightened than when you press it the most painful.

This weekend, I’ll open the windows wide and wipe the dust off every nook and cranny of the house, and clean my mind, too.