Your Subtle Positioning Of Self

You were always neat. Orderly. You had a small bag. You kept your things inside. You needed a small space. You didn't like clutter.
Breath.
Imagine it has nothing to do with you.
I picture my chaos and the way in envelops you. My Shit disturbing you
I smile at her.
"I know, I know," my smile says, "He was neat before me."
How do I say that in a smile?
I just do it with a smirk and a confused look.
Where you trying to hurt me? My eyes ask.
Or is it really so fascinating to you how neat he used to be.
It's a past I can't compete with.
You only knew him then.
I was pretty fucking unbelievable myself- but you wouldn't know that.
I was healthy and ate three meals a day.
I was perfectly composed, amusing even. I was energetic and full of ideas and sometimes those ideas woke me up at dawn.
You wouldn't know it.
You see me as something broken. You see my body and all it's faults.
I smile.
Sometimes I like it so messy that he loses his stuff in it,
...and then himself.