I miss my friend. 

It’s there. It hits me like a ton of bricks in the chest and knocks me over. I don’t know how to get up. I’m struggling. 

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and it is a nice morning. I am sitting outside in the garden working, because I know sunshine and fresh air is good for the soul and mental wellbeing. Sitting outside in such a beautiful day and I would normally think this is great. 

It’s just quiet. The dogs are sitting in the shade, the back door to the house is open and I have music playing. 

I feel like a pot that’s been broken and stuck back together. I move around, pieces of me fall away, crumbling to the ground and I kick them under the sofa, into holes, into the dark where no one can see the many ways I’m falling apart. 

I’m silent, but I’m screaming and all I can do is look at the many ways I failed. 

But I didn’t. 

I want to say I told you so. 

I’m not so good with friends. I don’t ever manage to keep them. They don’t stay, not when they know me, when they see me. 

And it’s funny because I always warn them. I always say one day you’ll leave. Everyone does. It’s usually my fault for it. But they go in the end. 

And they always tell me no. That they know themselves, and I don’t. That they’ll never leave. Nothing would ever make them go. “You’re stuck with me.”

I wish I could time travel. Go back each time to that conversation and show them a ball with the images of now. 

I’m always right. 

Always. 

No one sticks around. Sometimes I did something, and sometimes it’s just what it is. In the end, though, it’s always the same. 

I never try to hurt anyone. I’m not malicious or hurtful. I know what pain feels like. I don’t have it in me to inflict it onto anyone else. Even those who deserve it. 

Of course, I do things that hurt others, but I never mean to. It just happens. 

I end up here in some way. 

I don’t know how to pick myself up. I’m trying. I’ve managed to eat. Rice crackers and some fruit. Each mouthful has felt so hard, like a lump going down my throat and settling into my stomach. 

My OCD examines every piece, every mouthful because the food might make me sick, and I have to test the taste. 

OCD is my protector, the guardian who keeps me safe. It’s sensing danger right now, but not sure where the problem is. It knows I’m in pain. 

I deserve it. 

When I did therapy a decade ago for my OCD, she told me that when I am upset, or stressed, or something is bothering me, then my OCD will go a little crazy. It has. It’s out of control in the places it senses danger. My hands are so raw they look like I’ve dragged them down a cheese grater. They bleed and hurt to move when I type. 

My OCD has also declared war on the colour green. I’m not sure why. I have my suspicions. The car that broke my family all those years ago was a green MG and just typing those words sends shudders down my spine and through my body. 

I’ve had a loss, and maybe it’s linking to a previous one. 

So green is the enemy. I can’t write with a green pen because every word I scribble down will be somehow tainted and something terrible will come from it. I can’t wear my favourite green jeans, so they sit in the drawer. I can’t wear a green t-shirt or use a green cup. I can’t even cross the road when there is a green car around. 

I just hope it doesn’t focus on the foods I eat. They’re all naturally green, but maybe that is why food is so hard to swallow right now. 

Something bad happened, and now my OCD is trying to compensate. To ease the tightness in my chest I feel all the time, to calm me down. 

I made two days with no cuts but failed this morning. The weight in my head was too much. So I gave it what it wanted then got up and came outside. I made myself move, because I need to live, I want to live, even when I want to just turn out the lights. It’s a fight inside my head. A war with my spirit and my soul. 

I never ever mean to hurt anyone. My intentions are always right and I tell myself that, every time the trigger pops into my head and takes my breath away leaving me crushed. 

I wish I could pull everything out, dump it on the ground and walk away. 

I wish I could leave me too.