It's Mild

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

It's mild.


I have no obsession with numbers

No need for any specific rituals

No unnerving tics to make people stare

It's mild.




I think about pulling my hair out with tweezers

Strand by strand, until the brown is replaced with red

That cascades down my back, longer than ever before

I don't want to do it

I don't want to think about it

But the thoughts won't go away unless I let them play out.

I won't actually do it though. Not ever.


When I walk on the sidewalk, it's in the exact same way

Two steps per stone, then a half-step over the crack

If the stone is too big or has cracks in it

I start shaking, hands trembling

I have to figure out how to get it right

Because it can't be wrong or someone might get hurt.

That won't actually happen though. I won't let it.


I know how many stairs I climb up in my house

I know how many rooms I pass through in my house

I know how many relatives live with me in my house

How many secrets I have

How many moles I have

I know the numbers pertaining to me; 27, 7, 5, 3, 43

A lot of people know that though. It's not unusual.


I make sure all my papers are in the correct order

That all visible lights are off or covered at night

That there is nothing that is out of place

No strange sounds

No unexplained shapes

I am certain of all of this before I go to bed.

Unfamilar things are scary though. Everyone knows that.


I order my books by the date they were acquired

I stack my art supplies by biggest to smallest

I keep my erasers the same length and shape

My pencils by their hardness

My notebooks by the page amount

I schedule my interests and hobbies by the time required to do them.

There's nothing wrong with that though. It's just common sense.


It's always clean under my fingernails

I pick them with my teeth, with pencils

They always have to be cleen, clear white and pink

It would be okay if they weren't

It would be okay for a little while

But they always have to be clean in the end.

It doesn't hurt me though. It's fine.


My OCD is mild.

It does not adversely affect my daily life.

These experiences do not distress or bother me.

It's a daily occurence; I've gotten used to it.

No one needs to worry.

It's mild.


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