The first time I saw herā¦
Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you donāt really get quiet moments. Even in bed, Iām 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 cheekā
the eyelash on her cheekā
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 fucking talking to herā¦ 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.
Iād always watch her mouth when she talkedā
when she talkedā
when she talkedā
when she talkedā
when she talked; when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.
At night, sheād lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights offā¦ 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.
Sheād close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her.
Some mornings Iād start kissing her goodbye but sheād just leave ācause I was just making her late for workā¦
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walkingā¦
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 mothers place.
She told me that she shouldnāt have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, butā¦ How can it be a mistake that I donāt have to wash my hands after I touched her?
Love is not a mistake, and itās killing me that she can run away from this and I just canāt. I can'tā I canāt 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 carsā¦ 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 wheelā¦
How she turns shower knobs like sheās opening a safe.
How she blows out candlesā
blows out candlesā
blows out candlesā
blows out candlesā
blows out candlesā
blows outā¦ Now, I just think about who else is kissing her.
I canāt breathe because he only kisses her once ā he doesnāt care if itās perfect.
I want her back so badā¦
I leave the door unlocked.
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