Just a little thing I thought about when I read the poem OCD by Neil Hilborn. I mention parts of the poem in here so all rights go to Neil on that account. Hope you like it? Hahah.
P.S. Like many other mental illnesses OCD has different variants. I've confirmed with someone who has this particular type of OCD that it is sort of how she thinks. I exaggerated it to be comparable to Neil's poem and to be more entertaining to read I guess. I don't mean to offend anyone in anyway whatsoever.
I brought my hands upwards, almost crushing my forehead with my grip. My knees were held firmly against my chest as I stared at the door. I unclenched my fists, and clenched them again. Again. One more time.
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.
Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily.
"What are you doing up there?" A voice asked, narrowing her brown eyes as she stared up at me. I didn't recognise her, but she couldn't have been older than seven years old. Like me. Way too young to be alone in the park at this time.
"I ran away from home," I replied arrogantly.
"Alright," the girl's lips form a slight frown. She studies the tree for a while before stepping on a foothold and pulling herself next to me. Looking at the girl now I found myself looking into the most beautiful brown eyes I had seen.
Oh how they twinkled slightly when she spoke -
oh how they twinkled -
oh how they twinkled.
I knew I had to talk to her. "I'm Spencer." I held out my hand grinning.
I shook her hand six times in thirty seconds, she shook mine back each time, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.
"Emily," she tells me, taking my hand in her own, smiling. The only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.
"So why did you run away?" she asks, her eyes bursting with curiosity.
"My family are a bunch of imbeciles!" I complained, my lips forming a pout. Emily says nothing, her brows furrowing.
"Imbecile means stupid." I sighed. Her expression softened as she understood what I meant. It didn't annoy me that she didn't know what an imbecile was, not like it annoyed me when other kids didn't. She tilted her head slightly, encouraging me to elaborate about my idiotic family.
"My parents always take my older sister's side. Her name's Melissa. They think she's so perfect, but they don't know what she did with Ian Thomas that time they went out of town. She like sucked his face off or something. Anyway, she started shouting at me just because I left my algebra book on the floor and she tripped on it. Then she just told our dad that I swore. She's such a liar. He sent me to my room and that's when I packed my bag and hockey stick, snuck out of the back door and left," I explained to Emily who listened intently.
"And now what?" She asks.
I watched her mouth when she talked -
when she talked -
when she talked -
when she talked.
"I don't know," I shrugged, "I didn't think this far ahead," I admitted sheepishly.
"Well you can't sleep here," she chuckled.
"I'd probably fall out," I agreed reluctantly. This girl was right. It should have been me that was always right. It didn't bother me though. Ok, only a bit.
"You can come to my house if you want," she suggests, grabbing a hold of a nearby branch and jumping out of the tree. I struggled to dismount as gracefully as her and barely manage to land on my feet beside her.
"Really?" I looked suspiciously at her. What did she want?
"Come on," Emily rolled her eyes and laced her fingers through my hands pulling me to the direction, of what I deduced as her house.
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
It took me forever to walk to her house because there were lots of cracks on the sidewalk. She loved it. I tried explaining to her what was wrong with me, but she just simply nodded as if she understood.
"My parents are rarely home," Emily mutters to me as if to explain the silence of the house. She looked at me while I fumbled with her door lock. Locking it nineteen times before I was satisfied.
"Why did you invite me back to your house?" I ask, surprised by the sound of my own voice as I turned around.
"Well you couldn't sleep in the park," she explains. I look at her quizzically, waiting for an explanation that never comes.
"But you didn't have to invite me back to your house, I mean my family don't care if I sleep in the park so why should you?" I say sadly.
"It's not safe in the park," she tells me. "There are bad people there, people who might take you away and hurt you. You're too nice to get hurt."
I smile.
She was home. She was safe.
Emily.
Home.
Safe.
Emily.
Home.
Safe.
Emily's mum came in later to make sure she was getting ready for bed. Her face contorted in shock when she saw me. Even though Emily tried convincing her mum to not call my parents, her mum did anyway. She looked at me apologetically, sorry she ruined my plans to run away from home.
"It's alright," I tell her. "I probably should go home. I have to go re-arrange all my pencils for school tomorrow anyway. Thanks for inviting me to your house though, and jumping around the cracks with me. Usually everyone leaves me behind. It was nice to do something with someone.
"You're welcome," she says, she doesn't stop looking in my eyes. "Well you know where I live now, if you ever want to do something without people leaving you behind."
I grinned widely. "I've never had a friend who just my friend before. Melissa always says the only reason people are my friend is because I'm her sister."
"I'll be your friend," she says quietly. "Your friend who is just yours."
Just mine -
just mine -
just mine.
I didn't know why, but she moved forward and brought her lips to graze mine, just a second before stepping back again. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Like she knew I needed it to be perfect. I blinked a few times and took a deep breath before smiling.
"I'd like that Em."
Now, I just think about Paige kissing her. I can't breathe because she only kisses her once. She doesn't care if it's perfect!
I wanted her back so bad. It was killing me that she could run away from this and I just couldn't. I couldn't go out and find someone new because I always thought of her. Usually, when I obsessed over things, I saw germs sneaking into my skin. I saw myself crushed by an endless succession of cars.
She was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.
"Spence?" I dropped my hands to my sides. Only one person had that voice. The warm. The passion. The love. My head shot up as I stared into the familiar brown eyes. "Oh Spence." She sighed walking towards me, bringing me towards her. Our bodies fit perfectly.
"I broke up with her Spence. Paige. I'm just yours remember? I'm just yours." She whispered against my ear.
She laid on the bed and watched 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 closed her eyes and imagined as the days and nights were passing in front of her.
"I love you Spencer."
I knew she meant it by the way her mouth curved up slightly at the edges.
