diagnosed

Location

United Kingdom
55° 22' 40.9836" N, 3° 26' 9.5028" W

I was diagnosed

and my brain proposed

maybe death would make this all go away.

You see my brain ticks to a different beat as the rest.

like showing up slightly late to the lesson.

You see that would happen a lot.

being late.

as my brain fell as bait to a nameless demon spoken only by my doctor as my lips pressed tight refusing to speak it.

Ironic how I call it a demon as it feels like the earth around my feet become the fiery pit some call hell. Perhaps it belongs?

It really does seem like torture.

To be forced to count every slate on the fence on the way to math class under the presumption that my mother would wind up dead if I didn't.

For all reason is overridden until that predicament seems likely,

likely enough for me to count all the slates on the fence on the way to math class.

as ridiculous as it seems reality doesn't play a part in the brain that ticks too late.

For the obsessions and compulsions act as a deterrent to sanity.

I know now, writing this that  turning a light switch on and off 12 times will not save my best friend from the demise my brain has created, but when you try and fight obsessions and compulsions with sanity and reason. Sanity and reason fall short of winning.

Washed away completely leaving me to perform meanless acts such as clicking my fingers 37 times on each finger or counting every step I take until I walk past 5 red cars.

I know all of those meanless acts are useless but you see

my brain ticks to a different beat to the rest, causing this fest of unknowingness to pool and run through my veins causing my skin to crawl and my palms to sweat my body to itch and eyes to ball, until these meanless acts are performed, leaving me reformed knowing now my family is safe.

Even though they would have been if I didn't spend ten minutes counting every single pencil I had in my pencil box.

Now,

I've avoided naming the actual diagnosis mentioned on line one.

Some of you would have known from the start.

And it breaks my heart that so many people throw the term around so loosely when talking of cleanliness or orderliness.

Person 1 uses lines like "that mark on the screen makes me have OCD"

Person 2 doesn't use any line because if the person were to talk about their actual diagnosis people like person 1 will reply with "me too" not knowing that claiming to have OCD without having OCD makes people with OCD want to scream "ENOUGH WITH OCD"

I think the day I was diagnosed I wished I was dead more because of the fact people claim to have it like they're saying they're hungry.

You don't.

It's not something you want to claim to have, stop it.

There is no benefit.

All you're doing is making those who have it become sick, as their condition is made a mockery by people throwing the word around like a toy gun.

But honey, you're holding a real one.

(H.C)

This poem is about: 
Me

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