Cobwebs in My Corner

The other day I found cobwebs in my corner. There the spider had spun a massive web that looked like pulled cotton for Halloween decorations.
I started freaking out. I grabbed a broom and spun the web around the end of the stick wondering how long a spider had loomed above me.
You always hear that statistic about spiders crawling into people’s mouth in the middle of the night; apparently hundreds walk right thorugh the open, snoring, and sloppy cave of every average American.
I wonder how many I’ve swallowed.
I couldn’t help but cry as I destroyed the widow’s creation. I let myself fall into this pit of pity that led me glancing nervously at all the corners of my room and feeling quite trapped in those walls. Trapped in my own mess, like an animal making bed in their piss.
I disgusted myself. I shook with my disgust. How did I not notice that thing before now? Lord knows I stare at my ceiling enough to have caught the web in the works.
However, when you find yourself in your room staring at walls you’re not really seeing the wall. You look beyond the wall. So beyond, so lost, that you miss a giant, fucking cobweb collecting in the corner, inches from where you were staring.
There were no more webs, but I noticed the dust on the ceiling blades. Huge caterpillers had crawled around the edges. And once again I became aware of the condition I had allowed myself to slip into.
I dug thorugh my cabinets for some spray and paper towels, then wrapped a t-shirt around my face that had been lying on the floor.
A new wave of disgust came over me as I wiped the first blade, sending a cloud of dust into the air, falling over my head and the floor. I looked to see the paper towel covered in filth.
The caterpillars detached easily and bundled together in a plastic bag like a bucket of worms.
Utterly disgusted. I had breathed this in. I lost myself as I cleaned each blade, falling futher into a despair that ate away at my stomach.
I stood on a chair in the middle of my room wiping my own shame from my lips.
I looked around the room, falling more as I noticed the mess; dishes on my desk, cigarette butts on my floor… laundry and worn clothes claimed territory in front of my closet, cat hair and fleas infested my bed, trinkets and knick knacks lined every space on my shelves, bits of paper and images cut from books and magazines clung to my wall—it all surrounded me, it all taunted me.
I’d clean, but the mess would return, always returned, until, I suppose, I got tired of going through all that trouble.
But one must hang their clothes, and vacuum their carpets.
I burrow in my mess, sit on my mound like a dragon. I am Queen of the hill! Ruler of the junkyard!
I can’t breathe. The dust is falling on me. Spiders are crawling out my mouth.

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