I have never in my life been considered a neat, organized person. Not by myself, not by my friends, and definitely not by my parents. 

My room has never been spotlessly clean for more than three weeks, my backpack is full of bent-up, loose-leaf papers, and throughout the year, my handwriting progressively starts to look more and more like I wrote it half-asleep. 

Not only do the spaces around me always seem to find a way to be messy, but so does my brain. 

My mind is littered with unfinished thoughts and ideas that are too long forgotten to be forced into organization. My brain is a half-finished chess board. Pieces are scattered across, bumping into each other and being knocked out of the game. 

The checkers are too busy, and the queen has long since tipped over. I don’t know how to pick up the pieces and set them right, but frankly, I don’t want to.

I have learned to make peace with the chaos of my thoughts.

There’s no space between my thoughts, and I have grown to enjoy the way each thought leads to another until I have fallen down the endless rabbit hole of my mind. Swirling through a whirlpool of a decade’s worth of memories and facts and Pinterest-board aesthetics. 

Most of the time, I don’t mind that my desk is more paper than wood or that my bedside table is barely visible under mugs of tea, old books, and half-finished homework.

Most of the time, I couldn’t care less about the amount of time it takes to find a paper in my backpack when I have to turn it in. 

Most of the time, I work through the mess of my mind with the consistent thought that I’ll start a new to-do list at the beginning of the week. 

I tell myself that I just need to struggle through the last couple of days of the week and then I’ll clean my room. Then I’ll organize my backpack. Then I’ll sort through the clutter of thoughts and write every single one down in different color-coded highlighters, perfectly sorted into their own respective categories. 

But, then it’s Saturday, and I have morning practice and homework to catch up on. It’s Sunday and I’m out with my family all morning and my friends all afternoon. It’s Monday morning and I shove my computer into my backpack, tearing my Spanish homework that I have yet to complete. 

Another week goes by, and the papers start to pile up, bringing my stress level with them. 

Every word out of my teachers’ mouths are things to add to a to-do list, but I can’t seem to find the time to write them down, so instead, they stay in my head, making it even more cluttered. 

Assignments compile, papers spill off my desk onto the already barely visible floor, and tears threaten to leak out of my eyes, pushed by the strain of having too many thoughts at once. Too many things to do, and too few minutes in a day. 

Often, I can feel my emotions begin to elevate to this level. It starts off as something small, but I know it’s there. And, as I do with many things, I procrastinate trying to fix it. I don’t want to waste time cleaning out my backpack, my desk, or my brain, so instead, I just keep shoving things in. 

I never want to organize. I never want to go through weeks of homework and assignments marked in red pen and bearing grades I’m trying hard enough to forget about as it is. But, once it reaches a certain point, even I know that I can’t go on like this forever.

I dump out my backpack, clear off my desk, and begin the process of creating dozens of—at least partially—organized to-do lists. 

I know that it won’t last forever. At some point within the month, my handwriting will slowly revert back to its usual state of messiness and my papers will begin to find their way outside their designated folders. 

Whether it’s my brain, my desk, or my backpack, my obvious natural state is not one of organization. I have grown accustomed to this, and am no longer bothered by the thought of papers scattered across my workspace. 

But, when I can start to feel my stress level match the muddled mess of my thoughts, I know that it’s time to make a change, however much I dislike it, and however impermanent it will inevitably be.