My room is messy. Not like that's a surprise to anyone who knows me: I was famous in high school for having things enter my room and never coming out.

Currently, I live in a tiny little hole in the HELP residence with my roommate (another Michelle! Hey hey ^_^). No, not tiny, cozy. Or at least that's what I tell myself when I keep on bumping into my roomie while getting ready for class.

The problem with living in such a small space is that it gets cluttered so easily, especially when you are in a reading-intensive course (Ah, law school) and have a ton of books, notes, cases and other assorted gibberish scribbled onto bits of paper to decipher. I deal with all of the above by using an impeccable filling system: I throw everything out of my bag and onto the desk the minute I step through the door.

This would be a great plan, if not for the fact that my desk is about the same size as a newspaper opened out.

Currently, I have a stack of papers the height of a midget reigning over my desk with various bits of junk scattered around as its subjects. Every now and then, the stack - who I have affectionately named Gerald McStackerson- tips over on its own accord, as if to remind me of its presence.

It's not like I can't find anything in the mess. Oh no. Ask me where anything is, and I'll dart my hand into the chaos and pull it out within seconds. It's just that it would be nice to actually sit at my desk and work instead of balancing everything on my knees while I sit on my bed.

Gerald continues to sit on my desk, looming ominously over me while I go about my work, silently mocking me and my fear that he would tip over and throw the desk into even more chaos. I can hear him laughing at my laziness and how he stands as a testament to my messy ways: cruel, mocking chuckles that echo in my ears and haunt me even after I have left my room far behind me.

His arrogance will be his downfall, I think to myself. He stands next to me as I type this, blissfully unaware of what is to come. The resistance is rising, and it will not be merciful.

Oh yes, I will regain control over my desk one day. Just you wait, McStackerson, just you wait. One day, your reign of terror will end, and the desk will be mine again.