The thought of you terrified me at first.
Another reason for someone to never love me.
It brought me to tears.
But when I heard my diagnosis…
I was relieved.
They now had a name.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
OCD for short.
My thoughts no longer defined me.
They weren’t a part of me anymore.
I knew what to call them.
They had a name.
And maybe since I knew their name,
I could tell them to ******* leave.
I found a penny face up.
I flicked it off because luck doesn't exist.
At least not for me.
I picked it up and turned it to tails.
If I can't get any luck no one else can.
People say misery loves company,
But I'm just tired of things working out for everyone else but me.
I think I'm last on everyones list.
I'm the pocket change in the bottom of a purse.
I'm the last resort,
When people are desperate for some change,
Turning their purses upside down,
Throwing couch cushions,
Hoping for some luck.
I'm a lot like a penny.
But if I were a penny I'd have tails on both sides.
What the hell does that mean?
When does someone become an adult?
When they turn 18? 21?
Or does age even matter?
Maybe it’s more about what someone does.
How much someone accomplishes.
What makes someone an adult?
Moving out of your parents house?
Getting an education?
Losing their virginity?
Having a full time job?
What if I haven’t accomplished any of these?
What does that make me?
All I know is that I’m 25
and still feel like a ******* child.
I live deep inside my own head.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever make it out.
I don’t know what living is anymore.
I’m never fully present.
There’s always a piece of me off somewhere else.
My mind wonders off...
I don’t even have control of it anymore.
I do it subconsciously.
I’ve been in my own head for so long now.
I don’t know where it all began.
When I was in 5th grade I became a “woman.”
I was also hurt deeply by many people that year.
Friends introduced me to things a little girl should never be exposed to.
Then middle school was tragic.
I was hurt more times than I can count.
Maybe that’s when the day dreaming began.
The real world hurt me so badly that I had to create my own world.
My own reality.
After awhile I stopped knowing the difference.
Reality vs Fantasy
What is there to pursue in this reality?
Motivation left me years ago.
I beg her to come back but she never does.
Why should I pursue dreams in the real world, when I can achieve so much more in my world.
I guess that’s why Motivation left me.
She served no purpose in my life anymore.
I now live for the small things in the real world.
Seeing a new movie. Eating at my favorite restaurant. Hanging out with my best friend.
I’ll save the big stuff for my world.
I talk myself out of having feelings for you every night.
I make a long list of how under-qualified I am to be yours.
My weaknesses far outweigh my strengths.
It’s like someone with just a high school diploma applying to be a doctor.
I am severely unmotivated,
Terrible with finances,
And I do not work well under pressure.
Apply any pressure at all and I break.
You have accomplished so much in your 30something years.
And you did it all on your own.
Then there’s me,
I don’t have anything to show for my 25years that I’ve existed.
I have books and movies to escape.
I read and watch life happen rather than live it myself.
Journals and papers filled with all my useless emotions and “experiences.”
Tear stained pages to remind me of all my heartbreak.
I have clothes that make me feel like I’m a woman.
Even though I’m a poor excuse for one.
I have makeup of all colors and finishes.
The only talent that I have.
Not only do I have nothing to offer you,
I have nothing to offer anyone.
But although I know all this is true,
I will still anxiously wait for you tomorrow.
I will still daydream about the conversations we will never have.
I will hope during the day,
And break my heart every night.
I crave it.
But can’t have it.
It’s so hard being this alone.
Can make me want.
An accidental brush against my breast is enough to keep me wanting.
I lay awake at night forcing my legs together,
hoping it’s enough to keep me at bay.
I could take care of myself,
but no one will be there to hold me when it’s over.
My weighted blanket can only do so much.
I may feel weight pressing down on top of me,
but there’s no arms to hold me.
I can’t lay my head on my chest and hear my heartbeat.
I can love myself all I want,
but my ears still aren’t hearing the words,
“I need you.”
“I want you.”
“I love you.”
I can love myself all I want,
but it never seems to be enough.
I’m surprised I’m not hurting so much.
I’ve only been obsessing over you for three months now.
I saw your single relationship status and got my hopes up.
Excited by the thought of you.
The thought of us.
That’s the problem though.
I didn’t truly like you.
I liked the thought of you.
So I’m glad you got a girlfriend.
Actually you had one the whole time.
But I feel sorry for her.
I found out through other people about your relationship.
Your Facebook still reads single.
You never post a photo of the two of you,
But she does.
You may like it but you never comment.
In person you two look like friends.
Well, acquaintances really.
You two never talk.
She just follows you around like a lost puppy.
She gives you all this love and attention,
But you just stand there and take it.
You aren’t giving anything back.
It’s like she’s screaming at you to love her back,
and she’s answered with silence.
You maybe her boyfriend,
But is she really your girlfriend?
I feel sorry for her.
She deserves better than you.
People say I still have a chance with you,
But I don’t think I want a chance with you.
I deserve better.