OCD OCD
Don't you know I love thee
I'm obsessed you're obsessed
We're two stalkers stalking each other in love
can’t get enough
Youre the best drug I ever took

OCD OCD
Don't you know I'm crazy for thee
I want you everyday
You are all that I crave
I crave you like herion
No way will I be mellowin

OCD OCD
Two attached we never let go
we don't care what they know
we don't care what they think
we don't care if they think were bad together
it's beside the point we know forever

OCD OCD
I'm so compulsed I cannot see
I am so blindly in love
I'm so compelled to never let you be
And I know you think the same as me
Let us bask in our OCD

You kissed one side of my neck and then the other, with a smile.
When you’re behind me and rest you hand on one hip to take a selfie, I have to place my hand on the other.
Quickly, you realised you love a girl of balance.
You lost her to tendencies and rules that love can’t fix.
And I know my OCD will affect you to.
Yet you still call me your little OCD girlfriend.

Within 11 days you realised 4 was my number.
It’s no longer quirky, just habit and safety.
But you, you could have waited till the 12th day
You ******* up a system in a bid to help
To make it worse the first argument lasted 21 minutes so even that wouldn’t fit the system.
You’ll never get it will you?
Yet I’ll always be your little OCD girlfriend.

Each colour may seem like a little, cute way of keep organised.
But without them it’s a black abyss in desperate need of structure.
A visual balance.
So even if it seems simple, it’s me.
And me, I’ll always be your little OCD girlfriend.

Clockwise.
That’s the way I’ll walk round you.
That’s the way I’ll make you turn if I’m in your balanced arms.
Don’t block my path.
Don’t roll the other way
Don’t try and change me
You know the rules
Because I’m your little OCD girlfriend

Now forget the clocks, number and colours, they are small fry in my OCD pond.
Balance
That’s my weakness.
That’s why I might hurt you
That’s why it takes time
But remember: what happens to one side must happen to the other.
Your love will be my balance.
As your hands learn a new way to explore my body
As your lips touch me twice,
You’ll remember I’m your little OCD girlfriend.

I am in a constant battle for control.
I am hard to deal with
because my therapist says
OCD will not rest
OCD does not care what time it is
OCD does not care where you are
OCD does not care who is watching.
Usually when I obsess over things
I see my life falling to shambles
I see people not loving me anymore
I see germs sneaking into my skin.
When my uncle, my aunt, and my friend all died
in a matter of three months,
i performed rituals every hour on the hour
sometimes even more.
My therapist says this will not go away.
My therapist says to come see her so we can try to cope with this.
My therapist does not understand that WE are not coping.
I am coping
not her
not anyone else
me.
My therapist is a sick person
she is still recovering from alcoholism
so how can she help me
if all she sees is a bottle of bourbon when she looks at me.
I am not a bottle of bourbon
I am a bottle of OCD and depression and anxiety
I am a bottle of drugs and alcohol and death
I am a bottle being smashed over your head
I am not coping
I am drowning
And people have stopped loving me
And my life is falling into shambles
And I think I may be getting sick
so what the **** are these rituals even doing for me
anyway.
I have stopped taking medication because
wanting to die has become habitual
and I fear that will become a ritual too.
If I die
all people will talk about is how much they loved me
even if they didn't.
If I die,
there will be no room to have my life fall to pieces
because I will be in peace.
If I die,
I cannot get sick because the soil
will be taking care of my body but
who will perform my rituals
once I'm gone?

obsessive
compulsive
thoughts that don't belong
intrusive
elusive
intrinsically wrong

ocd

unstable
unable
harm your bone and skin
fearful
tearful
tattoos of your sins

ocd
ocd

aggressive
possessive
words not meant but said
irritated
isolated
dreams not gone but dead

ocd
ocd
ocd

What's it like to have OCD?
   Did I count the times I shut the door? One, two, or three?
What's it like to have OCD?
   I read my school assignment a few times too many, just to guarantee.
What's it like to have OCD?
   Every night, I leave my fiance in bed for a while, so I can walk around and check everything; are both doors locked? Is the Dawn where it's supposed to be? Is the sponge correctly aligned? One... two... three

I’ve been beginning to think
The entire world has OCD
Match this,
Control that,
They say
Why can’t you all be the same as me?

They just have to match the colors
Laid out on our skin
And scold all the others
Who dare be different from them.

The entire world has OCD
Obsessed with getting their way.
The entire world has OCD
Compulsive because
Apparently
Things absolutely shouldn’t change.

The entire world has OCD
Except for maybe me?

I never suspected I had OCD
Until I replayed your voicemail
On the answering machine
A total of twelve times
Every evening
Just to hear your voice again
Or until I opened your dresser drawer
Thirty times
Before I went to bed
Just so I could smell
Your leftover scent
Wafting into the air
Or until I rearranged my shoes
In the closet four times
Before I left the house
Because you hated tripping over them
On your way out
But I knew I didn't have OCD
When I finally locked the door
And turned off the light
And made the bed on your side
For the very last time.

I can't stop writing this poetry,
Because all I think of is poetry.
Phrases repeat temselves spontaniously.
Like trains coming continuously
Rhyme and metre extravagantly
Burst into flames explosively.
Twas I who consulted psychiatry.
OCD he said repeatedly.
OCD I thought repeatedly.

Then I broke free
From
Rhyme and.  Metre

And any rules really!!!

**** it?

Flower

Sunshine in the rain
Relax bro

Be open and throw **** all over the place
                    But do it with grace.

Spanish influenza
walking pneumonia
icepick headache
common cold
whooping cough
Diabetes
anorexia
getting old

flat foot
bad back
heel spur
heart attack
spasticus
autisticus
tongue tied
amb(i)dextrous

my weakness
is my forte
my sickness is  my skill
my illness
is my realness
it makes my life a thrill

Trying to fight this
bronchitis
gangrene
runny nose
frostbite
tooth decay
hat hair
broken bones

bed bound
shell-shocked
flea ridden
sinusitis
cholera
dropsy
eliphantitis
out-all-nightis

wom­b fever
winter fever
black water fever
remitting fever
ship fever
jail fever
camp fever
or schizophrenia

scarlet fever
tuberculosis
American plague
rock n roll
Wheezing
Paralysed
Got gas
In both holes

rabies
scabies
rickets
and SARS
man flu
bird flu
swine flew
from Mars

multiple sclerosis
tennis elbow-sis
stomach ulcers
and leukaemia
night blindness
hypothermia
lung cancer
sickle-cell anaemia

French pox
Lockjaw
Polio
Gout
Nostalgia
Dropsy
Knocked right
Out

Stuttering
Bellyacher
Anti-social
Leprosy
Sleep walker
Sleep talker
Absent minded
OCD

Tourettes, ****
Pyromania
tonsillitis
Conjunctivitis
Food poisoned!
Warted over
My Psoriasis
(Will I survive this?)

Measles
Malaria
Meningitis
Migraine
Scrum-pox
Worm fit
Water on
the brain

apparitions
seeing things
rattly chest
bad breath
la duzi
tormentation
inflammation
black death

measles
malaria
migrane
mumps
leprosy
lice and
leg bone
lumps

kleptomania
bubonic plague
black *****
feeling ****
bone shave
falling sickness
wanna stop
just cant quit

Huntington's and
Parkingson's and
Hare-lipped
Hay fever
Typhoid fever
Glandular fever
Night fever
And Hysteria

intellectual
dyslexia
dysfunctional
family
cancer crab
stillborn twin
bad blood
epilepsy

Parking spot
disabilities
all the wounds in
all the militaries
pity thee with
lost agility
lost babes or
infertility

ear infection
starvation
Hepatitis
E to A
smallpox
chicken pox
cow pox
what a day

tuberculosis
stuttering
panic stricken
star struck
scurvy
shingles
headless chicken
bad luck


paranoid
in the void
premature
*******
stomach ulcers
feeble pulses
chronicled
*******

autistic
gallstones
double-jointe­d
wrists and knees
consumption
bad digestion
quinsy palsy
ticks and fleas

amnesia
typhus
amnesia
heart failure
radiation
cholera
amnesia
bad behaviour

Hypochondriac?
By gosh, no!
Poorly are ye?
‘Fraid so.


nostalgia
        suffer me
wanderlust
suffer me
insomnia
suffer me
loneliness
let me be



god
complex
mother
complex
father
complex
ego
complex

­

its complicated
im superior
its complicated
im inferior
its complicated
im a short man
got ingrown hairs
got a bad tan



im suffering
ocd
im suffering
obesity
im suffering
jealousy
xenophobia
and nosebleeds



stokholm
syndrome
toxic shock
syndrome
got it down
syndrome
irritable bowel
syndrome

yellow nail
syndrome
stevens-johnson
syndrome
restless leg
syndrome
shoulder-hand
syndrome

lambert-eaton
syndrome
mi­ddle-lobe
syndrome
mobius
syndrome
pickwickian
syndrome

post rubella
syndrome
riley day
syndrome
straight back
syndrome
ulysess
syndrome



alcoholics
we are prone
drug addicts
we are prone
mind benders
we are prone
fortune spenders
we are prone



My illness, my illness
My illness is my realness

*Pick it up
Tide it over
Fight it off or
Cave in

Save it
Suffer it
Pass it on
When its Raining

bleed him
restrain him
shave his
head

he went from being
quite well
to being quite
dead.

We all crave
Symmetry
Balance
and
Purity
In this world so
Twisted
Sullied
and
Chaotic

AM I JUST OCD
IS THIS ONLY BOTHERING ME
SHOULDN'T POEMS HAVE A RHYME
OR AM I REALLY WRONG THIS TIME?

Dad tells me I'm crazy
Mom says I'm insane
But how can I begin to explain to them
What I feel inside my brain?

The doctor calls it OCD
says don't do that anymore
I say I need to be free
I'll touch that corner till I'm sore.

They don't know what I know
How life would be if I paused
and then they'd come back to me
after seeing what they've caused.

It's not OCD
I'm just ****-rententive.

There are two
coffee urns
in my office kitchenette.
Each urn has
a spot to place your mug
beneath the spigot.
Each of these spots has
a circular insert
of gridded plastic
to mark the mug-placement area
and allow spilled coffee to flow through
so this spot
doesn't become
just a puddle of coffee
soaking the bottom of everyone's mugs.
Each of these inserts has
three indentations:
one on each side
at nine and three o'clock
small, arcing parabolas
like reversed parentheses
there to allow someone to
get their fingers into the
coffee mug spot
and under the insert
to remove it
and, presumably
clean it
and then another indentation
more like a groove
or a notch
much smaller, thinner, and deeper
at the top
that fits perfectly with
a matching
small plastic protuberance
jutting from the coffee mug spot
where the insert goes.
In an almost ****** fashion
this protuberance fits into
this last indentation
this notch
this groove
to secure the insert in place.

For some reason
I've never known
perhaps laziness
perhaps inattentiveness
more likely simple
couldn't-care-less-ness
this insert never seems to be
placed into the mug spot
properly.
It is always placed sideways
rotated a quarter-turn
so that the larger indentations
on the side
meant as finger holes
are placed top-to-bottom
noon and six
the small plastic protuberance at the top
being swallowed whole
by the too-large indentation
and its mate
the groove
meant to hold the plastic piece
so tightly
is left alone
to one side
empty
and useless.
This has always bothered me.
Bothered me more than I would like to admit.
It's such a simple little thing to get right
it would take almost no effort at all
and yet, day-after-day
someone
I don't know who
whoever is in charge of these things
insists
on doing it wrong.
And I cannot abide it.
So, day-after-day
when I go to get my morning coffee
I fix it
I twist the insert ninety-degrees
and secure it in the correct position.

Lately
I have noticed something.
Sometimes
when I go to get my coffee
one of the inserts
will already be
fixed.
Someone else has seen
what I have seen
and felt the same
had the same response
took the same corrective action.
This feels like winning something.
I don't know what
but it definitely smells like Victory.
And Conspiracy.

And it makes me happy.
Happier than I'd like to admit.

My scars don't look like
Anyone else's-
They're more careful,
Organized, precise and
Exact.
Not light, but
Never deep enough
Never deep enough
Never deep enough
Never deep enough.

People always ask why
I do such pretty patterns:
Because this is the only thing in life
That I can really control
Control
Control,

And I find it so beautiful-
Though, not so much tragic.

My scars are not chaotic like a
Car-wreck,
They are consistent like a
Coma-
Proof that I was awake
The whole time I was sleeping,
And I could feel everything
Even though I could tell no one.
No one.

That this
Unconscious obsessive compulsion
Demands order
Order
Order, it
Insists by instinct,
An intricate simplicity.

Still, I will 'ever envy
Those stitched gashes, once
Gushing
Gushing
Gushing with surrender and
Serenity...
Each raised and rough coarse collagen fiber
To form a white flag
Forever etched in flesh;
To tell the world
They, were a slave to freedom-

I am only a slave
To *myself.

my skin
was rubbed raw
because someone touched me
on the sidewalk
without my permission

one time I didn't sleep for a week
because something in my room was
out of place and I
couldn't fix it

ive stayed up all night
wondering if all the doors are locked
so I check
once
twice
three times
four times
and so on
untill its time to wake up

the soaps in the shower
are put a certain way
if not
then I feel myself fall
apart

Ill clean for days
and not sleep
or stop
once

so please stop saying
"Oh, im so OCD!"
because you will never understand
what its like to have this crippling
fear
that everything will go wrong
if one thing is different

First off, it won’t go away
Simple as that
It burrows inside your head
Like a Chinese finger trap
(I’ve never seen one but I know
what they are like)
Or perhaps a camel’s thorn
Another thing I’ve heard of

Occasionally you find relief
Maybe two minutes or even less
Maybe up to five hours
But it always comes back
At least for that day

You want to scream
To plead, to cry, to beg it to stop
But of course it won’t
It’s OCD, are you kidding?
Of course it won’t
No matter how hard you try
And believe me, you do try

You try not to compulse because
You know that’ll make it worse
You imagine a drill going
Through your brain, destroying your thoughts

It’s illogical, but that’s OCD
Normally, when things are illogical
You don’t trust them
You brush them aside
Knowing they aren’t true
That they can’t be

But with OCD you believe it’s true
And you don’t want it to be
And it might not be
But it also might be true
And as the day goes on
You’re more and more afraid
That it is

You live in fear of yourself
For you are hating yourself
Your possible truths
You tell yourself
That you aren’t your thoughts
Thoughts aren’t actions
But you can never be sure
Of what you think

It’s the doubting disease
Leaving scratches up your forearm
And that’s why
It’s ocd

My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder causes me severe anxiety.

It's hard. To have it my way. It's hard. I overthink it. The images of the little things replay in my mind.
I can't seem to hide.

Why do I have this fear? Just make it all disappear. It's not reasonable yet it feels so intense.
I feel tense. I am not satisfied with my presence. I feel uncomfortable.
Why am I not content with my surroundings.

My disorder involves both obsessions and compulsions that take up lot of time and get in the way of important activities that I value.

So many mistakes that I need to fix.
So hard to perfect everything.

The line I drew isn't straight, I have to start all over.

I need to wash my hands again. It's been 5 minutes since I haven't.

Don't bite the Kit Kat, break off each stick and eat it.

The clothes in my closet should be hung up and organized by color.

My picture frame isn't hung up in the middle of the wall.

My food should not be mixed with the side dishes or I refuse to eat.

My apps aren't on the right page of my phone.
Twitter should be under social and instagram should be under photography and if it's not, it's wrong, it's all wrong!


I need to wash my hands again it's been 10 minutes since I haven't.

The tv volume should only be an even number or a multiple of five.

Why is my seatbelt twisted?
My mind is twisted.
All these errors are persistent.
So hard to resist it.

I am not leaving my house until my phone is 100%, 97% and I can't stand it (will not do. )

Mother tells me it'll be alright after i take my pills...I agree to as long as the pills are sorted by color

you hit me like an ugly freight train
although i did see you in the distance
please don't judge me
i saw one sign,
but didn't believe it could be true

lost in a swirl of dark shadows
judgement judgement judgement
looking to the past and future and present
searching for proof for or against

my dark shadows test my body
who would think of this
i must be evil, gross, and wrong
suicide the only hope

watching water fowl swim
wish i could drown beneath
the algae pond in california
secret secrets i finally speak

pills, doctors, fears, hoping
but always sitting there
the thoughts that keep me tied to the sofa
staring at blank walls and stabbing myself in my mind

ocd is my deepest shame
i feel the tentacles reaching
my stomach turns at the ghosts that haunt me
resist the pull of falling in

This disease struck me
Like a brick on pavement
Hard

Everything was
Perfect
Then that brick came along
And with the slightest movement
Destroyed everything

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
The voices say

Why can’t I let them go?
They keep repeating:

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Why won’t they stop

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
I don’t understand

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Someone just HELP me understand

This disease is about
Perfection
But it's the biggest
Imperfection about me

Psychological issues?

Sure.

I've got plenty.

I don't know exactly when it started
But some time ages ago
During elementary school
I just felt so worthless
Like I was numb
I wanted to feel
But I didn't know how
And it wasn't a sharp pain
I would welcome a sharp pain
It was dull ache that wouldn't leave me
I froze in my own icy thoughts
Maybe it was the loneliness
Or all the things those girls said to me
Maybe it was the insults or the whispers
Or maybe it was just my twisted mind
But whatever the cause
I tried to **** myself
When I was just a little 11 year old girl
When some girls were still playing with Barbies in secret
I was secretly playing with knives and ropes
I would take that blade
And scratch a cut into my wooden headboard
One slit in the wood for every moment that I wanted to die
Because I was too young back then to even think of my wrist
That came later
A few years later
And still
There are days where I just feel so horrible and sad and broken
For absolutely zero reason
It doesn't make sense
Nothing bad is even happening
But I feel shattered
I spent a year feeling so. hollow.
So f!cking hollow
I felt like I couldn't breathe
Like I wasn't alive
I spent entire days
Not speaking
I still miss the cuts sometimes, honestly
I like my scars
Which sounds terrible
But I trace them with my fingernails absentmindedly some days
During the darker nights
It comforts me
Because even though I’m not going to cut myself ever again
I can jolt myself into remembering the pain
And it is a form of relief in itself
I don’t know
Not something I can explain
Is that depression?
Probably not though, I feel bad suggesting it in front of people who actually for sure have depression when I haven't been analyzed
But still, it's not impossible I guess

I spent 5 years
From grade 5 through to grade 9
Which is pretty **** young
Feeling fat
Hating my body
Hating myself
I can see my ribs but I still feel fat
It’s okay I can fix that
Eating a little less
Skip a meal
Just skip lunch
Just eat a tiny breakfast, no lunch
No breakfast, no lunch but it’s okay because I have a good dinner
I think I’m losing weight
Is it bad that I’m in grade 5 and thinking like this?
This is great
I think it’s working
I’m in grade 6 now
Maybe I won’t be worthless if I become skinny
I can still see my ribs
I could from the beginning
But I still feel fat
Okay, less dinner now
Hide it well
Let’s switch
No lunch, a little dinner and a bit of breakfast
Just enough to stay alive
Although how much to I really want to stay alive?
Fat.
Look at my legs
Look at their legs
My thighs God I hate my thighs
Eat less
Eat less and less
Until I’m basically surviving on snacks and just the beginnings of each meal
Just enough to take a few bites before they leave the room for a minute
Just long enough for me to throw away my food
But I don’t think I’m losing weight
I will never be enough
7th grade
Just a little less
Don’t tell any of them
Losing pounds
Check my reflection
I still feel fat
I try to be less so I can feel like I’m more
But does the number on the scale even matter anymore?
I’m promising and promising I ate before I came
But these pretty little lies are driving even me insane
And they can’t see through my smile they can’t figure it out
I’m slowly killing myself
From the inside out
Pretty soon, “I don’t feel well” is my favorite phrase and an everyday thing
A justification for my small portions that I don’t finish
It’s true though
I don’t feel well
I feel worthless.
It continues into 8th and 9th grade
Worse and worse
Looking up the calories of different food
Surviving on water and tea
Just enough food to stay alive
Though I really don’t care that much about my own survival, really
Is that anorexia nervosa?
I doubt it
But it’s a possibility I guess

I look in the mirror
And I feel so f!cking ugly
I literally cannot find ONE thing I like about myself
I cannot leave the house without makeup
Because I am SO ashamed of my own face
I genuinely feel bad for the people who have to see my face
I cry sometimes, because I look in the mirror and see my own worthless hideousness
I remember that sleepover I was invited to with the popular girls and I wondered why
When I got locked in a closet, got soap sprayed in my mouth and locked outside in the freezing cold snow without pants on when I was just trying to change into my night clothes
That’s when I knew I had been invited just so they could torment me
I don’t like being the entertainment for the party
I tried to just go to sleep because if I called home I would look like a coward
And my mother who NEVER let me go to sleepovers would get to say “I told you so”
And when they thought I was asleep
But I wasn’t
I listened to them talk for a full hour
My eyes on the clock
My ears on their conversation
“Is she asleep”?
I didn’t know they were talking about me until I heard them mention my name
When they talked for a full f!cking hour
In detail
About why I was ugly
On what levels I was ugly
The degree of my ugliness
I didn’t cry
I didn’t sit up and tell them I could hear them
It would be too humiliating
I listened
And I know they are right
But now it’s getting bad
My face doesn’t even look human to me anymore
It looks like some sort of beastly troll’s face
It looks f!cking hideous
My mother is worried about me
Because I can’t even look myself in the mirror when I have no makeup on
Because I Freak. Out when it is suggested that I might have to be in public without hiding my ugly face in makeup
It literally affects my ability to function properly in everyday life.
The thing is, those girls said it
And they ALL agreed
So if I REALLY had dysmorphia
Then it would all be in my mind
And if they all agreed I was hideous
Then I must be
So how can it be imagined?
I don’t know
Anyway
My point is
I suppose
MAYBE
It is possible
I have dysmorphia

But
Depression
Anorexia Nervosa
Dysmorphia

Those possible diseases of the mind
I
Have multiple
Psychological issues

BUT OCD IS NOT F!CKING ONE OF THEM

How dare he suggest such a thing
Just because I
“Always seem to be working towards something”
Excuse me for not getting drunk and high and naked
Putting off work
Not caring about anything
It’s not OCD though
It’s just called going somewhere in life
Because I may as well
Since in my mind
I’m hopelessly lost

you said you had been a mess lately.
i ran my fingers through your tangled hair and agreed.
the unorganized chaos in your head sent me into a whirl.
you said that old wounds dont heal,
i said that im just cleaning the cut.
ive always had a habit of disturbing things better left in the dark,
and i don’t think that there is any part of you that i left untouched.
childhood memories and things you had long since forgotten stirring in the dust
i took the paint splattered across your heart
and turned it into a masterpiece,
you said you had always liked abstract better than realism.
the neat rows that i stacked you in feel heavy on your tongue,
and you told me with words that i had already prepared for you
that the messiest thing about ocd,
is that nothing can ever be left alone.

A monster appears
like one from your childhood
An inner battle commences
Between the bad and the good

At first, you'd find them in movies
or under the bed
Now as you grow, you fear
The monsters live in your head

Disguised as shadows in night,
New monsters now appear
These monsters are sneakier,
They know what you fear

Struggling to breathe,
your eyes filled with fear
Trapped, alone, no where to hide
Can't escape, it's far and it's near

This monster is tricky,
It plays tricks on your mind,
You plead for it to stop,
But there's no where to hide

This monster knows you
It makes you question your past
With a bleak outlook,
You wonder how long this might last

The one place you felt safe
Before this monster invaded
Now your mind is no solace
Every good memory faded

How do you run from something
That plays tricks on your mind?
How do you know who you are
When it's yourself you can't find?

How do you feel joy from
things that now trigger pain?
How do you move forward with life
when only fear remains?

We all grow up
It's a natural part of life
No one ever warns us though
That life comes with great strife

No one ever tells us
To be afraid of our thoughts
Feeling lost and alone
With many battles still to be fought

Once this monster invades,
It's hard to get back
To a life once lived,
Before this monster attacked

Our parents warned us of
the bad guys outside
They never told us
of the ones in our minds

And now this monster has control
You no longer recognize the mirror
You pray for this to end,
For prayers fall upon deaf ears

You question your sanity,
You question your morals
This monster knows how to torture
To envelop you in its toil

You know you have a battle ahead
This monster can't defeat
Crippled by the past
You must overcome and beat

This is an illness
This is internal torture
But you mustn't forget
You've got a bright future

You must fight on,
Between this inner war
Good versus evil,
What do you fight for?

Fight for love,
Fight to win back your mind
Fight for family and joy
Fight for what you still must find

Monsters can attack
Anyone, anytime
Lest not judge
For you never know when a monster might prey upon YOUR mind





Author note: end the stigma of mental illness. Talk about it.

I might've been an only
child but I was never the
favourite. you trailed behind us at every
social event, pulling on my
hair and stepping on the backs of my
shoes. the bottoms of them were so
worn out from years of me trying to run
away that I could feel every footstep in my
lungs. at christmas none of my presents could be
wrapped, because we'd learned the first
year that it wasn't a good
idea. she made me spend hours tearing it off in a straight
line, using a ruler as
guidance. I was too young to read the
numbers on it. this year, I bought her a
necklace. I knew I had to give her something even though I wanted to
take. she never mentioned it on our Christmas cards, but it was
there, it was
there in the spacing of our
names and the negative space between our warm
bodies; we weren't allowed to
touch. she hates you so
much that she could never bear
leaving you. vacuums became my
lullaby and my father quickly grew
used to never getting kissed on the
mouth. I hate you. you were a thorn
stuck into the centrepiece of our perfect
family, and my psychotherapist says you're the
reason I still let myself
bleed.

it started as a polite knock
tap tap tap
always three times
my heart asked timidly to leave my body
tap tap tapped
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see

soon my heart progressed
thud thud thud
always three times
my heart started raising its voice
thud thud thudding
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see

then my heart was angry
wham wham wham
my heart pounded in my chest
wham wham whamming
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see