he first time I saw her
Everything in my head went quiet
All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I’m thinking
Did I lock the doors? Yes
Did I wash my hands? Yes
Did I lock the doors? Yes
Did I wash my hands? Yes
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips
Or the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek
I knew I had to talk to her
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or fucking talking to her
But she loved it
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked
when she talked
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her.
Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was
just making her late for work
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking
When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line
She told me that I was taking up too much of her time
Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her?
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t
I can’t – I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin
I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel..
How she turns shower knobs like she’s opening a safe.
How she blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out…
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he doesn’t care if it’s perfect
I want her back so bad
I leave the door unlocked
I leave the lights on
