A/N: So here we are again, with a new drabble-ish story. This time, I'd like for you all to meet Hoarderward. Pictures for this story will post to my blog. All items that Hoarderward says he purchases or has in his home are real, and I will be posting pictures of them with the chapters. There is no set schedule for this story yet, so please don't ask. I will let you know once I do what the schedule will be. To check out this chapter's pictures and the banner for the story, head on over to my blog (link on my profile)

I'm so unbelievably frustrated right now. And overwhelmed. I don't know if I'm a hoarder or not, but the house is ridiculous.

There's the crap all over the floor. It's everywhere. There's no place to put anything, so it's hard to even begin to figure out how to put anything away. Every closet is full of crap, badly organized. I can't even tidy up for guests.

Then when I do take the time to clean up, it's a real project. And I figure it's okay to let it all go…just for a little bit. After all, I worked hard, fought through the anxiety and panic attacks that come at me over getting rid of things, I took the time to stack and store everything, I deserve a break right?

It's really bugging me, quite frankly, that I can't even have a relationship because of this since I can't bring a girl home without worrying whether or not she's going to laugh in my face or just go running for the hills. My family gave up trying to clean up for me ages ago when I would just bring everything back into the house that they tried to throw away, and my parents stopped coming over a while back after what became known as the "Slap Chop Attack." I couldn't sleep one night and was watching the damn infomercial for the blasted thing, and next thing I know I was calling and ordering…thirty of them…you know…just in case one broke or something. Well, I guess I stacked them too high in the hallway because when Mom bumped into them, she kind of got the ultimate slap chop…to the head as all the boxes tumbled over, burying her beneath them. She ended up with a concussion behind that and hasn't set foot in my house since.

I do go to work, and you'd never know my personal life was a mess from how pristine my office is. I think it's because I'm the CEO of my own company, and I have an image to maintain publicly. It bugs me though that I can't carry over that organization to my home. I just…I can't figure it out. I want a clean space to live in, so why can't I keep the house organized?

I'm losing my shit here. Something has to be done.

A/N: So…thoughts on Hoarderward? Let me know in a review! Chapter 2 will post tomorrow.

Until next time,