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There are thousands of possible reasons for every thought you have For every action you take For every mental process There are reasons you don't even know Psychology
Don't worry There's no need It's mild.   I have no need to scrub my skin raw No need to compulsively arrange objects in a specific order I do not quadruple-check windows, doors, the stove, my car
I go where I’m pulled, and I’m pulled to a place where I feel so low. 
Forgive me my old pen for being On the front line with my griefs Writing has turn me away from Place where comfort increases My urges and my anger erupts I've always wanted to give them
Howard Robard HughesFamously rich recluseDreams led him to the lap of luxuryFollowed by nightmarish mysophobic OCD.Rich playboy aviator Howard HughesWith movie starlets kept himself amused
I slept to getaway. I slept to hide from my responsibilities,  Now I stay awake to get away from my dreams.  Now I stay awake to hide from my thoughts.   
My mind is swelling today Swelling of fallacies  False foes that engorge each time a thought grows
Tortured mind Tortured soul Where am I? Where to go? Always on the run With no road Where is paradise?
Repeat, repeat, repeat. The words burned into my mind Staggered all the time, they fed way to no grind OCD they called it, OCD we named her Why is she here,
Manipulated.      Protective,      Terrified,      Confused. Emotional Abuse. 
Obsessions and Compulsions pulling me every which way. Step here they say or you will get hurt. Step there they say or you will get hurt. You MUST  do this, you MUST do that.
Fear I know it,oh how I know it. He keeps me up at night,I never rest not one bit. I feel it in my brain All rationality goes down the drain I’m tired  OCD is a monster,he will not leave me alone 
You don’t need to stare -one, two, three, four- at me like I’m some sort of science experiment. A freak of nature, just as amazing and depressing as a third-grade paper-mache volcano, spewing numbers and tics like baking soda and vinegar.
Wallet. Keys. Food for work. Check. Anxiety rises with every minute that gets closer to my shift. Leaving my house is hard because I'm afraid I'll lose something and be stuck out there. Wallet. Keys. Still there.
its like an old sweater in my head, one thought that i cant let go of so i keep pulling at it like a loose thread until the sweater of my mind unravels.
Dear Hair,    They call it "trichtillomania", pronounced "TRICK-til-o-mania".   A six dollar word.   Six syllables to describe a lifetime of hair pulling,   all for the sake of some sick, sweet relief.
You don’t have OCD Do you have to do things in certain numbers? Knock three times on a door? Turn the knob three times to open it?  
Dear Obsess Obsess Obsess Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Are you really sure we need to keep Checking and washing And checking
Why won’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want you around - I never have. But apparently, I can’t get a restraining order against my own mind.  
Dear Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, You, the bane of my existence, the pain that has persistence, no matter how I try there's no way I can outdistance you.
Hi, my name is Faith. I am a 4.0 student I went home today, and my mother asked me how school was. Hi, my name is Faith
Dear Obsession,   Consuming my mind Controlling my life Lying in bed
drip, drip, drip. it shouts from across the room. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. wrenched down by the thoughts as they swirl.
dear ocd--   you have manifested and festered you have begun and spun my life turned it inside out inside my head is a whirlwind
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.
Stop twitching every time you mumble those around you worrythey wonder what you say under your breath when you make those jokes people get uncomfortable unsure of whether to laugh along
Lock, Unlock, Lock, Unlock, Knock Knock. “Hold on, almost done!” Lock, Unlock, Lock, Unlock  “Okay, four times... Come in.”   Your beautiful brown eyes  Shine as you take four steps 
I used to think I was a good writer My creativity used to flow from Head to hand to pen to paper
You love me, right? Yes, I know you've said it. Yes, I know I've heard it and yes. I've listened.   But! But nothing, I know. You do, BUT-- My brain doesn't believe you.  
POUNDING POUNDING The thoughts want in, - - POUNDING POUNDING They will be my end, - - POUNDING POUNDING They want to control my functions, - - POUNDING POUNDING
All the reds go together as well as all the blues Line them up from lightest to darkest and make sure they don’t touch I’ll get a terrible headache and get the urge to scream
My thoughts are racing but they only go in circles They're coming for you Turn the lights on and off 14 times You're gonna get pregnant Smoke another cigarette They're coming for you 
The hair of my arms turned, I know this collision of arms is inevitable, Yet my mind spins like a ferris wheel gone rogue, A correction must be made to my limbs, Wrong, this is wrong; tears pry their way out
What is OCD?  Is it going through your house to make sure everything's clean? 
Mommy, look at me, look what I can do.Say any word and I'll spell it, I'm smart just like you. I'm sorry I was bad. You hate me? Is that true?I promise I'll be better, Mommy, tell me what to do.
Sometimes I think, I think a lot. I’ve never had a moment without melancholy thought. I ask what it’s like to die, or how one could do it. I think about life, and how I’ll get through it.
Cleanliness important since birth  Ingrained in his head since he was a kid  Friday morning palms overhead  Leaves are looking a little long Traces of dirt find their way to the ground   
These thoughts run through my head. Stop, I tell myself. They are just thoughts.  My hands are red and raw from the scorching water mixed with bubbling soap.  They tell me to stop, but how can I?
I am courageous and hopefulI wonder if I will ever truly recoverI hear my ED and OCD thoughtsI see a possible future without recovery and that scares meI want recovery and freedomI am courageous and hopeful
Grabbing, clawing, reaching, climbing, running. struggling to get out, away, free, from this monster that is consuming you, hunting you, suffocating you.
I tried to tell you      When I was twelve years old     That I was experiencing something I couldn't nor wanted to explain    
OCD Sydney Jackson   I place my browning Good Will bag on my kitchen counter
It’s a specific side. The one with frayed edges where Paper fibers are disrupted from the interwoven Pattern of rules calculated to win points.   No one can see the perfect matrix.
My eyes flick back and forth between the pictures to remind me I am safeTo remind me who I amOne two threeOne two threeOne two threeWatching a movie but my eyes aren't on the screen
Zero. The age when life is simple. Life in the moment, past and present, absent. Time is a concept yet to be discovered, Numbers possess no value. Smiles and laughter fill the days,
She only reads books that start with the letters K, I, or C. She doesn’t know why But she thinks it’s because they spell kick And she often wants to kick herself in the face. (She drowns herself in a lake)
First it was counting Everything in fours Once, twice, even three times Never enough   Tap, tap, tap, tap
Pastel pieces of paper littering the floor Notes, lists, worries, and more It’s called OCD and I couldn’t find rest In therapy, workshops, books, or meds Poetry provided the outlet I need
Living in constant fear, When nothing else is clear, But oh, "It's just a thought."   Living with anxiety flooding your thoughts, And stress entering your mind, But oh, "It's just a thought."  
  Little Things They say that’s what it’s all about. Perhaps even the things you can’t live without.   That little thing holds back all the little ticks in my head that are coming out, oh god
The needle falls from my hand.Golden orbs still bubbling beneath my skin.Honey coursing through my veins.The sweet nectar breathes life to my lonely heart.She reaches into the inner depths of my being.
Please stop stalking me, stop watching for my every weakness and exploiting it. you are a slimy shadow, a grim stormcloud. hanging over my head,
Peace I find in thee. Your constant is my rock, Your selfless thoughts: I stand in awe. Within you I am free. Not confined in prison block; But rather safe within your law.  
Please, don't touch me. But, please, hug me.  Please, make sure everything is in order. But, please, let me do it. Please, don't make eye contact with me.  But, please, tell me my blue eyes are pretty.
1. I am haunted by It.
Whiskey-colored rays of light coming from the window dragged me out of bed.
Mental illness is defined by the excessive, 
It won’t kill you. No, what you’re afraid of won’t hurt. But you can. The fear can drive you.  Drive you off course. Drive you into a rail.
Undefinable If you try to say that you can describe me you’re wrong I’ve faced adversity and have since become strong, The words that I write are just a glimpse of my own insight
imagine there is a landmine in your veins tic tic ticcing away counting down the days until you can look in the mirror and see yourself straight -   imagine
  I sell myself short  with these small rhyming pomes I could make a da-vinci and hang it in homes   I choose humour simple simplicity
ADD ADHD OCD BPD PTSD Depression Anxiety Dementia You may think I'm just listing mental disorders And I sort of am. These disorders have one connection. Me.
My mother's crying My father's gone My brother's screaming I am singing,  I think I'll take a walk   My friends aren't listening My teachers don't care The walls are closing in
Who is that lonely girl Sitting on the corner of the street Who is that lonely girl Not saying a word while she eats Who is that lonely girl Wearing the outdated shoes Who is that lonely girl
I panic between doorways  I count the breaks in stairways  to rules I always adhere  and I do this out of fear fear that I'll lose my sight  that it will punish someone dear 
One, two, three- Organized alphabetically.  Four, five, six- this must have a fix.  Seven, eight, nine- but I hate to whine.  Ten, elven, twelve- mentally it delves.
it was innocuous at first. (doesn't it always start off like that?) my lips were just a little too chapped and it looked bad, so i peeled off some of the old skin. no harm done, right?
Clean? Clean, clean, clean... clean... one more time... just one more... twice more... thirce more... I swear I'll stop... soap, water scrub, scrub, scrub hot, scaulding 
Mom, you do not have OCD because you like clean sideboard.You are neat and I congratulate youbut you do not have OCD until your head is filled with a montage of shattering plates,bursting lightbulbs,smashing vases,
When I was five I was considered for having OCD. To my family at the time they laughed at how I was "considered". It's a mental illness, you either have it or you don't.
Eyes open. Hands washed? They are. Clothes cleaned? They are. Is the lock locked? Definetly, I check three times. Stove off? Definetly, I checked seven times.
Dude, you know I was raped, right?
Why do I feel like I have to hide, If we are all a little broken inside? Maybe I am ashamed or at times a little scared, but I shouldn’t have to feel this way. I wish I could make them accept me,
I am not broken Because I need things to be just right, Because I worry about the little things, Because my fears are unrealistic. I am not broken, you just don’t understand.   I am not broken
Sweet Supple Innocence The press of sinewy hips Our flesh entangled before the gaze of silver plated St. Peter, the protector I merged into you, no longer me simply an extension of you You became my puppeteer
OCD and Depression What do those words mean to you? Do you think of happiness and power or constant hurting and woo? These words infiltrate my life, so terribly so.
OCD and Depression What do those words mean to you? Do you think of happiness and power or constant hurting and woo? These words infiltrate my life, so terribly so.
There is a buzzing in my head. There’s a fluttering, flapping, swishing noise in my head. There is a buzzing in my head. I don’t think you get it. There is a BUZZING in my HEAD.
I may sound insane, but the voices I hear are not of a lunatic . They are of someone suffering of OCD ( Obsession Compulsive Disorder). "IT NOT CLEAN!" 
I walk in the room, and all fifty-something of the people are staring at me instantly.    Well, not really.   
They don’t teach you not to be small.I’ve been in a million classrooms that teach us not to get too big and make sure we exercise enough.Never have I heard, “Don’t get too small.”
From asylum to asylum I never seem to change, Whether it is a shotgun to my head, Or to that bully from fifth grade, I am a pressure cooker full of rage.   No longer, No more, My trust in you is gone,
When you wake up you don’t normally know muchFirst thought might be “I need to pee”Second thought might be “What time is it?”But what if when you woke up you’re first thought was to blink your eyes three times?
At any given moment you could ask me what's on my mind      and I could give you a categorized list with bullet points to spare           left blank for the few memories that are climbing out of bed
I'm starting to pick less and less Each day I'm home on bed rest The stress has started to fade away A dying art of decay I am not cured, just putting it off Fluttering away life like a moth
If I could change one thing in this huge world filled with adversities, I would take an eraser and erase OCD from anyone's life. It grabs it's victim by the throat and suffocates them and makes them believe there is no way out.
Sure, a cr
Just get over it, she said. Were these words simply a cruel joke? I never expected to hear them From the walking medical degree in a lab coat. Shouldn’t you be smarter than that? I wanted to scream.
Who would’ve known that three little letters  could screw you up? It’s like a mad scientist  grabbed you from behind, took out your brain  and injected it with steroids 
There isn’t always a cause. It may be a product of her always planning mind; Always on the go, Always impatient, Always demanding. Because she must make up for lost time. The loss no one can predict.
It’s not the orderliness It’s the knowing. It’s the knowledge of how Many tiles coat the ceiling Of the lab on the third floor, How many stripes are on The rug of his room,
I am half-read books and highlighted words inside of them.
I've started out the day todaySitting in my math class.But all that I can seem to noticeIs a flaw in my necklace.
You want to know why I came late this morning? I was up all night checking the damn locks 50 times each, looking at every faucet in the house, tapping on every electrical outlet, pushing the light switches,
Why am I always the one to get hurt?Does pain have no compassion?Let the fierceness of the stormCalm downCause the waves keep pushing meAway from life and reality
I can’t help it That I must walk In out in out into your classroom I can’t help it That I must sit In the same place I can’t help it That I must go wash my hands
I can’t help it That I must walk In out in out into your classroom I can’t help it That I must sit In the same place I can’t help it That I must go wash my hands
The first time I saw you, everything in my head went quiet, all of the compulsions, all of the obsessive urges, all of the racing thoughts that stole my breath,         but you stole my attention.
Hell is a place where the mind can goNightmares exist before eyes are closed Fear has a home inside my soul Memories hold me captive and won’t let go   Love is a place where I feel warm
Wouldn't I be pretty If she wasn't tan and skinny Knew all the words to country Like you do Wouldn't I be pretty If you drank too much whiskey Drove home at two And I waited up for you
You travel alone on a pitch black road. Through the mist lanterns show dimly, Keeping the monsters at bay Until one by one, darkness replaces where they glowed  All you hear are the beasts snarling grimly
in crispy cold, the wafer moon flies there's a loneliness that backhands this repeating demise all the stars around me seem as pores to the sky and my pores breathe them in like millions of eyes  
Words were there for me when no breathing being was They filled me up and I spat them out on loose-leaf paper They were my friend, my mentor, my lover They covered the chasm in my barely beating heart
Count the stars illuminating Vermont’s mystic forests On a late night in June Count the notes the chickadees exchange there Slightly out of tune Count the buttons you’ve collected in an old shoe box
On the outside, I may look normal, Just like all the rest. But inside, I am hurting, My heart tearing in two, From the voices in my mind, That tell me what to do. I can’t escape their orders,
I’ll stay up hours to burn up the midnight fuel within my core and drown out the nerved voice inside that is never content. Like breaking a fever, I either run it rampant, or it will run me dry.
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