I have a cleaning disorder. I like everything to be white, no blemishes. No hair or marks on anything. No food crumbs or dirt. I hate dirt.
I love scrubbing myself until my skin is red. I love it when I peal off my skin, revealing newer, and much cleaner skin.
I love soap and disinfectant.
I hate eating. Food is dirty, food is fattening, food is something other people touched. Food will make me disgusting. No, better to stay empty.
Funny how empty and clean are synonymous to me.
I hate it when people touch my belongings, touch my computer, touch my phone, touch my hair or skin. I hate it, because they are other people.
I’ve only kissed three people, but I regret kissing them. Imagine how dirty their mouths must have been? The exchange of saliva freaks me out. I have to ask them if they’ve kissed anyone before me, and see just how clean they are before I let them approach me.
I can’t stand greasy hair, no, not even sleek hair. No, fluffy and downy is better. I like having short hair. Easier to clean.
Long nails are nasty. Toenails are nasty. Old socks and used underwear. The worst is bedsheets. Fresh bedsheets every day. Fresh towels every day. Fresh clothes every day. Yes, I love that.
I’m getting my OCD back.
Sometimes I wish I had a roommate. Someone I can spend nearly all my time with.
My girlfriend, Laura, isn’t really a commitment sort of person, and she leaves at the end of the summer - back to the University of York. So, it’s more like we get drunk and make out.
I just want something stable. Someone to cling on for a very, very long time. Someone who won’t let go. I want someone to spend the rest of my life with.
Not like a husband or wife. But a boyfriend/girlfriend that won’t leave me to go study abroad. Everything in my life has been taken from me.
I feel like a child.
I empty and fill my life constantly. It’s a sick cycle, and I don’t think it’ll ever stop. In a sense, it’s a form of catharsis. I empty my room, my computer, my list of friends. It’s a round of elimination, and you’re about to go.
However, once it’s so empty, I have a craving to fill it. Stack books on top of each other, pillows fill my room, my computer becomes a haven for files, and my list of friends fill up until I can afford to be mean and lose them all again.
My aunt said my way of thinking was wrong, that I needed to be consistent. Fuck consistency. We’re trying to level ourselves on a tilted world. No, I can’t, I say. I can’t be a dull shade forever. I have to change, to develop and evolve. It’s part of my nature. I need to start over again, and again, and again. I need to break things as much as I need to mend things. So, to me, imbalance is the only way to be a balanced human. You can’t be bloody happy all the time, and you can’t be sad all the time. You jump from one to the other.
To be honest, I feel sort of bad now. I just missed a week and a half of school, and I’ve cut all contact with the people I liked, because of this cleaning process. I feel too empty now.
But I suppose I wouldn’t change a thing.
You want to know why we like sad people? We like sad people because we think we have the ability to change that sadness into happiness. That little achievement, it gives us a little burst of pleasure. I can’t stand happy people sometimes, because then you know they don’t need anything. They don’t need your words of comfort, and if they’re somehow – heavens forbid – happier than you, they think they have the jurisdiction to try and make you feel better. I fucking hate complete and happy people.
I’m supposed to be writing this essay for Psychology, but here I am instead, in an isolated room at school, writing this. This is much better than talking to someone about my thoughts and opinions, because whenever I do need to get something out, I have to turn it down, make it simple and soft for them to digest without throwing up.
See, people ask me what I am thinking, and I can’t tell them, firstly, they don’t really care. Nobody does. This world isn’t feeding off of feelings, Gandhi . Love isn’t what makes the fucking world go ‘round. I’m not denying that love is a powerful motivator, but I don’t see it as much more than that.
