![]() ![]() My OCD examines every piece, every mouthful because the food might make me sick, and I have to test the taste. Each mouthful has felt so hard, like a lump going down my throat and settling into my stomach. Of course, I do things that hurt others, but I never mean to. I don’t have it in me to inflict it onto anyone else. In the end, though, it’s always the same. Sometimes I did something, and sometimes it’s just what it is. Go back each time to that conversation and show them a ball with the images of now. But they go in the end.Īnd they always tell me no. They don’t stay, not when they know me, when they see me.Īnd it’s funny because I always warn them. I’m silent, but I’m screaming and all I can do is look at the many ways I failed. I move around, pieces of me fall away, crumbling to the ground and I kick them under the sofa, into holes, into the dark where no one can see the many ways I’m falling apart. ![]() ![]() I feel like a pot that’s been broken and stuck back together. The dogs are sitting in the shade, the back door to the house is open and I have music playing. Sitting outside in such a beautiful day and I would normally think this is great. I am sitting outside in the garden working, because I know sunshine and fresh air is good for the soul and mental wellbeing. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and it is a nice morning. ![]() It hits me like a ton of bricks in the chest and knocks me over. ![]()
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