She wanted it that way. She wanted to break out of her life. The house of her mother, where everything had to be perfect. No mistakes. Mistakes are failures. Mistakes are a disgrace. Everything had to be neat. The house, the garden, the clothes. The house with the modern furniture, the clean spots. No clothes on the floor. No dishes staying around. No shoes in the middle of the entrance. It always smelled like cleaning spray. It smelled sterile like a hospital. It felt like a prison. She knew her mom was sick. She knew it wasn’t healthy. She also knew that having a organized home was good. But it was too much what her mom did. It messed with her head and now she couldn’t even clean up her own apartment. She had no motivation. The spiral of thoughts pull her down into a dark hole. Dark clouds overlap her mind. She can’t do anything against it. The voices in her head start to scream: “You’re a failure.”, “You’re a disgrace.”, “Why can’t you do anything right?”, “you’re a shame!”

The voices get louder, the clouds get darker. The darkness consumes her. The scars on her soul are to severe. They are invisible but they hurt. Tears fall down her cheeks. Her breath is out of control. She sits there surrounded by all her boxes. In her first own apartment and she can’t breathe. She can’t do anything. She is scared. She doesn’t know what to do.