ocd.

I think the hardest part of society is accepting change.

I'm here to ramble, because one, I have nothing to do, and two, I need to clear my head. My head's all fuzzy and  I can't think straight. It's probably best I empty out before school starts just because I know everything that will happen will just end up flooding on the floor. Like, I'll be in math again and think that I'm learning something, but I'll look at the floor and I'll see all my notes.

Figuratively, of course.

It's almost the end of 2011. Well, not really. I think of the new school year as January, almost. It usually means that my bitchy self comes in. By that, I mean that the frustration of dealing with people and OCD and germaphobia comes in. I made absolutely no progress with it this year. It's so fucking frustrating because there's some people I'm "allowed" to touch and others I cannot. When I want to offer my condolences, my brain hits me in the face and says, "No, you fucking retard, you cannot just go over there and be kind and offer physical comfort because that means you'll just die slowly." What the fuck does that even mean? How did a simple obsession with the atom bomb and World War II lead to fear of radiation of everything?

I have no reason to be afraid of radiation, I don't. I don't even think it's germophobia anymore. It's just me not thinking things straight. I wanted to go to Japan one day, but since the radiation problem...I don't think so.

If I try to just fight through it, it's a nightmare. It consumes my mind and I break out into a sweat. I get headaches until I deal with the problem...which is cleaning everything. I don't know how cleaning something will relieve something of radiation.

Now that I've stated that I have a problem, I can work through it, right? No.

I figured moving out of Long Island would fix it, but I don't want to run away from it anymore. I just want to fix it and be normal. I don't think it's interrupting my life, but I know it's looking bad to other people.

It actually breaks my heart, really.

The irony is that I hate cleaning. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I'm so lazy that I will sit through sweats and headaches then go to clean.

I want to get rid of the problem junior year. This way, senior year will be normal. Then I can be a normal person and live my senior year like I dreamt about in when I was younger. It will be hugs all around and physical contact or whatever. I know I'm stronger than this. But how does one fight change that resides in oneself?

It feels good to get this down somewhere, my head already feels lighter.

I want to be there for my friends at all costs, but this weird shit gets in the way. I might as well just say, "Fuck it. Fuck you ever-so-random selective physical contact fear. I will burn you and then beat you with a spiked bat.".

I thought I was better at balancing friends, but last year proves otherwise. I know this and feel absolutely awful about it.

I thought sophomore year was good, but it's just bittersweet.

I want to change.

I write this in hopes that the release of information, I will be able to change. With the change, I will become a better person. With change, I can breathe easy again.

With change, I am born anew. With change, I am not so pessimistic. With change, I am more accepting. With change, I am me.

I don't feel like I have much time left in my life, which is dumb. It's really dumb. I'm sixteen and I think my life is ending, which in a way, it is. I think I feel this way because I know it'll probably be me to run onto a blade, a la Julius Caesar by Shakespeare.

Because with time, I know someone I love will hold that blade for me, but with no good intentions.

My anger will be the death of me.

I have no reason to be angry.

I have no reason to furrow my brow. I have no reason to lower my eyes to a dull glare at everyone. I have no reason to clench my fists and grit my teeth. I have no reason to feel afraid of the ones I love, because they are human, just like you and I.

And for that, I am sincerely sorry that I cannot reach out to Ali and Michael because my OCD just says otherwise.

It's been four years that I've been locked in the war. I want to be free. It's like being wrapped in hot iron chains. It feels like I'm tied to hot lava. I'm flowing nowhere, because I know death is eminent. It only takes a few more moments before I am engulfed and then I am nothing.