There’s a need for severe repetition
And when objects are out of position
A ritual practice
Restores the exactness:
Obsessive compulsive condition

I used to hate-
How I stayed within the lines,
In the pictures I portrayed.
I used to hate-
How I thought once, twice, three times,
And still could not decide,
What I wanted to make.
I used to hate-
The bubble I was stuck in,
The structure I never punctured,
The rules in my head,
Like some wings I could not spread;

While I observed the beautiful swirling imperfect creations of my peers,
Who would draw on their Converse - add piercings to their ears;
Magical and free. I admired their creativity,
As I let the gas settle back in my shaken-up bottle,
Thinking will I eventually run out of throttle?
Grabbing moments of impulsivity, always followed by second, third and fourth thoughts -
Till they pass, and I'm back to my indecisive self.

But now I like my thought-out decisions,
I like the tasks I deem worthy to finish.
Not as free as my peers, and I still like their beauty-
But this world need us both: the fun and the duty.

gotta be god or play god
i wanna have control
something something perfect body
something something perfect soul schrodinger's stranger
behind my door
he's here until i prove that
he never was at all
there's leeches in my skin
i can ******* feel it
gotta check myself again
just to believe it
perfection is holy
and symmetry is perfect
never, ever stop
even though it isn't worth it

One day my brain will be nice to itself
Instead of rage I will give it a big hug
I’ll be able to apologize for all the years
of mistreatment and sorrow
I will mean it when I say I’m fine
there are no more layers to peel off
no more mysteries to solve
and no more reasons to worry
My mind will be at peace one day
A mantra for me to keep going

Hyper fixated
my mind keeps on racing
with entwined and abrasive
slights to my native ways and my nature
always finding a way to
sabotage and engrain a
sense of imminent danger
along with the worst ways to
mend and to gauge
making positive changes
on how I appear to myself in my brain
I'm hyper fixated
My mind keeps on racing...

being perceived is so uncomfortable
and yet, something I want at the same time
to be seen and heard is an instinctual need humans have
but I also hate that people have opinions of me
ideas made up about my character based on one interaction they had with me probably on a day where I wasn’t in the mood to even be alive and they crossed paths with me…
I don’t want to be looked at, please don’t stare,
but I also want you to notice my existence, acknowledge I’m alive
I don’t want to be pretty or for anyone to feel bad about themselves because they looked at me
I don’t need you to say hi to me or make small talk, in fact, I ******* hate it
but I also want you to know I’m a good person and I like to make people laugh so let me tell you a joke on my behalf
I’m so uncomfortable when someone sees a photo of me,
Are they thinking how ******* stupid I look too? How thin my upper lip is? Do they think I’m trying too hard?
I’m so embarrassed but I also want you to like it.
Existing is embarrassing and so is the fact that you know I need to breathe to be alive and I have to eat to survive

As if a mother of two children were just given the news
That both children were killed by a murderous fiend
When she tries to inhale but the surrounding air seems deprived of oxygen
So breathing becomes useless as she tries to think
And her heart feels now like it's been lodged in her throat
All the voices of people seem so far away
This is how depression is for me.

Wednesdays are cool with a subdued energy
Just me sitting in silent disparity
In between white walls with a claustrophobic  persistence
No one and nothing understands this existence...

Today,
I stay and reflect.
Like the mirrors floating on a pond, wandering in focus.

At times I am hopeless, distraught, and dazed, pondering.

I'll stop you there, you sad, beaten man.
Do you feel the seas trod upon you, drown you and let you swim further, and further just to regret, forget why you even began?

The shining at the deepest depths is merely a mirror to self-reflect,
to pay respects to what you wish you were.

Did you forget why you're here? Because, in truth, I never forget what I never knew,
why the sky feels the need to fall in disrespect, all upon your war-torn shoulders,
buckling under that very sigh you set free when you realized you're the traitor here, as you just get colder.

varied sighs sing you lies of peace,
poor Icarus, he tried to fly, to plead the sun, to chase infinity.

Do you truly seek peace? You try to run yet create your own inevitabilities, seized by your own dreams. With these ****** knees you've built yourself. Scorned by warnings of your self fulfilling prophecies.

You said so yourself.

First,
find what you need,
then perhaps your ever elusive peace may come,
and bring you to your knees,
to drown in seas of relief.
The war is not over,
Just another day.

For the record:

no, not everyone has a “little bit of OCD”
nor can you “almost” have OCD.

You either ******* have it or you don't.

Really, it’s blasphemous--

to use the sacred art of poetry
to gatekeep an illness you are
fortunate you don't have
all for the sake of clout.