OCD As A Sport

 
Have you ever watched the madness of obsessive compulsive disorder unfold? If it wasn’t so tragic it would be funny. Well, it’s still funny. Hand washers. Light checkers. Counters. Clean freaks. Wall touchers. Pattern walkers. Control. Control. Control. Scale recalibrators. Symmetrical obsessors. Randomness can fuck off. I was once afraid of hair. Hair on soap or in the bathtub so I took showers in the dark. My sister turned on the lights just to watch the epic meltdown. I used to weigh myself incessantly. Recalibrate the scale using a 5lb weight because it had to say the magic # or my whole day would be a miserable shit of a 24 hours. I was and am not organized, but I have an insane amount of control over insignificant things so that I don’t completely collapse in on myself. Food. There’s one. Eating disorders are a form of ocd. Because a human being in control is like God. And sometimes God chews up food and spits in the garbage or doesn’t eat at all or eats and then throws it up. If my french fries touch a pickle they are tainted and I can’t eat them. If my pickle is on a white plate, it should just get back in the damn jar because I don’t like white plates There the damn devil I tell ya. I need to eat my food from a square blue plate so I carry a square blue plate in my purse. What happens to your brain when you go insane? It gets stuck. A thought gets jammed and it tries to break free by turning a light off three times or touching a picture of Elvis. We are not meant to have this much control. Life is order out of order.