My house looks like a scene from hoarders or more specifically my bedroom, probably because no one is here to call me lazy or guilt trip me into doing shit by telling me how hard they work to make sure we have nice shit, lalalalalalalalalalalalala not having to clean, or feel obligated to do so is nice. Even if I am living in squalor, I need someone to take care of me to make sure I don’t suffocate myself if I fall into the growing pile of pepsi max cans near my bed. I need supervision.