Obsessions

You know that stuff on the end of the pencil, right after you sharpen it?

 That prickly wooden fuzz, that disgusting stabbing ick.

 Know that stuff? I hate it.

 I hate the way it rubs along my fingers as I try to write my essays.

 I hate the way it crunches drily into the cracks of my fingers.

You know how when you’re walking down the sidewalk

And you step on a crack you just have to step on another on?

And not just step on it; plant your opposite foot, in the same place,

On the next crack.

I hate the way it never works, the way your brain is screaming

Not right, not right, not right!

I hate that I am forced to waddle down he sidewalk like an
asylum escapee,

Tripping over myself.

Crack, crack crack!

            You know when you have that favorite number

And if things aren’t done in multiples of it,

Your skin crawls right off your body? I Hate that.

I hate the way I press the skip button three times on my iPod

And have to press it again, even if I want to listen to that song.

How my boyfriend knows to kiss me four times if it’s more than one,

And eight if it’s more that four.

You know when your windshield wipers are going

And you can’t turn them off

Because there’s that one drop of water,

Stuck to the window?

I hate how I drive under a tree

And that one drop of water splashes

And explodes then gathers itself up again

Into a giant bubble of annoyance.

You know when you can’t sleep

Because the blankets aren’t perfect

And you twitch and turn

And flip and flop

And nothing ever works?

I hate that.

I hate how I end up throwing them off of me,

Falling asleep with my eyes stinging, shivering.

You know how when your OCD fires up

Everything is twice as hard?

Wait. You don’t’?