my room: an analogy

(i am probably not the first person ever to think like this, but it seemed worthy of writing down.)

my room is a funny thing. most of the time, if you were to walk in unannounced, you would find it mostly tidy though with my bed certainly unmade. if you had mentioned to me that you might stop by, i would make my bed to impress you. that's just how i am.

but this tidiness - looking at my room, on the surface, it is clean. there is nothing sticking out or strewn about. even the cluttered papers on my desktop have been organized by size and relevancy, stacked as neatly as possible, and perhaps even disguised by a cleverly placed notebook or textbook. everything is in its place, and you would assume that my room is just Clean. (with the capital C.) IF, however, you were to open my closet or pull open a dresser drawer or (gasp) look under my bed, you might realize that what appears tidy on the outside is most definitely a mess on the inside.

and the thought occured to me today that this appears to be true for me (my person) as well as my room. one of my favorite dashboard confessional songs contains the line,

laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
but you're barely scraping by...

i don't know that i wear make-up every day. but when i do, i make sure it looks perfect, despite anything else that is going on under the surface. i tidy myself up - try to look put-together in my choice of outfit, in the things that i choose to carry in my shoulder bag, the places i choose to sit in class, the things that i choose to complain about to a classmate and the things that i choose never to say. for the most part, like my room, i seem tidy to the naked eye. because i know that i can fool people by appearances. and so i keep mounting this deception - keeping my room clean, keeping myself outwardly composed.

there isn't always an enormous mess bubbling under the surface of my outer image. but sometimes there is. the question: what will it take to let someone see my room at its most disheveled? or rather, what will it take to let someone see me at my most disheveled?