I keep telling myself I don’t know what to do but I do know because it’s the only thing I can do, tolerate until one day I hope I wouldn’t have to anymore

About how I set up my room, how I’d relax on my bed, make plans of what to do with my life, how I’d fill my walls with posters I printed from home, how I’d have space for my random items I didn’t realise meant so much to me until they were locked up in the loft cuz there isn’t any more room