There is always something 

  
I’m stranding in the Streets, I’m working at my new job, as a street facer for  Amnesty international. A job that supports me in my gap year. 

I’m standing in the streets. I know I’m wearing pants, but I keep checking. I’m sure I’m gonna die of cancer any second.Even though  I don’t have cancer. I’m sure that I’m dying of AIDS, because I had a one night stand last weekend, even though we used a condom. 

I feel scared. 

I feel like my entire body is covered in germs. I think I can feel them crawling at my skins, even though I’m clean. 

I feel duscusting. 

I’m sure that I’ve lost something, I’m sure that I’m forgetting something. 

I’m confused. 

I look down at my hands. I’m shaking. Like I’ve done a thousand times before. 

I know it’s crazy. I know it’s not logical. But my heads is exploding with thoughts like these, and there are too many. I can’t let them go. 

I go home. I shake. I feel sick. I’m sure I’m gonna die. 

A few minutes later, I’m back to normal. Waiting for the next time, the OCD and the anxiety hits me. 

I get so angry. My OCD and anxiety is always stronger, if I’m not throwing up, or cutting.

There is always something. 

– R 

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