When strangers look at me,
they see a girl who seems
crazy.
I understand that
they might not get why.
It's hard to explain and
difficult to fully comprehend,
but it's okay.
How can I expect people
to commiserate, when they see me
obsessively counting steps,
perpetually cleaning surfaces,
constantly washing hands,
regularly checking locked doors,
randomly tapping everything,
and always
repeating?
The answer is:
I can't.
But it's okay.
It's okay because I know I'm
different.
I know I have odd routines
and strange rituals.
I know my fears aren't rational,
and my compulsions aren't
logical.
I know I look crazy to those
who don't know me,
who don't understand that there's
a constant battle in my
mind.
At the end of each day,
what really matters is not the
looks or degrading questions I
receive.
What matters is
how
I
see
myself.