You’re the opposite of a guardian angel.
You are the reverse of rose-coloured glasses or an encouraging whisper or a smile from a friend.
You’re the mud on my shoulders that keeps my eyes to the ground watching for cracks.
You make me hide. You make me cry.
You make me have hate in my heart.
For you. For others. For myself.
You make me lose myself down a rabbit hole of “you can’t”,
“you hate” and “of course you would”.
You make me count.
You make me hold my breath.
You make me clench my fists.
You make my skin burn.
You make my eyes swell.
You make my chest tighten.
You make my parents cry.
You make me miss out.
Because you’re the devil on my shoulder.
You’re the opaque glasses that never see anything but black and white.
And you are the rabbit hole.
You’re my mixed-up Wonderland.
But I’m not a rabbit and I choose not to fall down.
OCD, you are a long lost friend who sends me postcards.
Once in a while I forget that I should not respond.
I wish you didn’t make it so easy with your self-addressed stamps.
But I promise as time goes on you’re going to stop hearing from me.
One day you won’t be able to find me.
Sorry, but I have a different address.
I’m on a beach somewhere.
Sometimes it rains here but know that I’m better off without you.
I don’t even know your name.
-by Naomi M., age 25.