I do not remember the exact moment I developed obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) only brief and fractured snippets like a broken movie reel.
Except, it was not a movie as I had so desperately hoped for it to be — a nightmare I could possibly walk away from. No, this was a deeply embedded root, slowly taking hold of my body and my mind until I was unable to differentiate myself from my thoughts.
OCD is not a cute quirk, nor is it something everyone has a “touch” of. It is not perfectly aligned pencil cases, color-coordinated closets, or a feeling of needing your surroundings to be clean.
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