The first time I saw
her...
Everything in my head went quiet.
All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just
disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t
really get quiet moments. Even in bed, I’m thinking:
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the
hairpin curve of her lips..
Or the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so
I had to keep going.
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color
than I did eating it, or
fùcking
talking to her...
But she loved it.
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or
twenty-four times if it was Wednesday. She loved that it took me
forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our
sidewalk. When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like
no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door
eighteen times.
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked
when she talked;
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the
edges.
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights
off..
And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and
off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on,
and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off.
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights
were passing in front of her.
Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d
just leave cause I was just making her late for work...
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept
walking...
When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line.
She told me that I was taking up too much of her time.
Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place.
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached
to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but...
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands
after I touched her?
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run
away from this and I just can’t. I can’t – I
can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of
her.
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my
skin.
I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars...
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds
her steering wheel..
How she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe.
How she blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out…
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her.
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he
doesn’t care if it’s perfect!
I want her back so bad...
I leave the door unlocked.
I leave the lights on.
--- Neil Hilborn,
OCD
freak* · 1 decade ago
*crying*
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