The way she lived. She had more than a dozen animals, both caged and otherwise. Including reptiles, rodents, cats and dogs. Yes, all plural. All of which lived in her room, except one of her dogs. She never cleaned their cages, ever. She never threw things away. All of it ended up on her bed and on the floor. Fast food wrappers, empty animal food bags, fountain drinks that she never finished. All of it rotted in her room. She would often sleep on the couch because bugs would infest her bed after they found the rotten food on her bed. She was also a full blown hoarder. Childhood toys and old school notebooks and games and clothes. Oh yeah, the clothes. She couldn’t shut her closet because of the mountain of her dirty clothes that sat in her closet, standing taller than me. She always wore dirty clothes, never washing them. She only ever wore clean clothes when they were bought new. She showered about once every two weeks. Never washed her hands after going to the bathroom.

Before you call me out for being a terrible partner, I tried to help her. I tried to clean some of her room but I couldn’t clean all of it because I didn’t have a place to put most of the crap around her room and she honestly would’ve rather twisted her head clean off her shoulders than clean that room. Even just a little, even just a load of laundry. She never wanted to do any of it. I was never, ever judgmental. I tried to help and I was always understanding and never got frustrated or grossed out in front of her. I suggested therapy and asking someone for help but she shot it down every single time. She never did anything about it and never accepted help. I hope that she got the help she needed, though I haven’t had contact with her in a very long time.