Onism

OCD

The first time I saw her
everything in my head went quiet.
All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.

He watched from afar, as she picked up an apple one after another, humiliated, her moonlight hair hiding half of her face. He couldn't make out her features from where he stood but god was she beautiful. She was the kind who would simply go unnoticed by anyone, but he wasn't just anyone.

His mind suddenly was at peace,everything in his mind went quiet. He forgot about what number he was on, and how many sidewalks he had walked on.

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I'm thinking:
Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes.

He had OCD, and he hated it that he did. He was known as the freak around school. A freak who counted seconds and how many letters were on the board. A freak who washed his hands too many times. He was simply just.

But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips
or the eyelash on her cheek-the eyelash on her cheek-the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.

She was the kind who would simply go unnoticed to anyone. But nothing went unnoticed to him. He was a real observer . As he got closer, he realised how her eyes were almost black, and the eyelash on her cheek.

He got the sudden urge to remove it and so he did. He casually went up to her and removed it from her cheek and held it out in his palms. She was shocked at first but as he told her to make a wish three times, she knew he was the one.

I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.

And so their love story began. and came with it the destruction and corruption, of their hearts and souls, of him, of her, of them. He cherished every moment he spent with her.

The more time he spent with her, the more he fell. He asked her out on a Monday because they were his favorite. He asked her our once, then twice more because he didn't like the way he sounded at first.

On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating, or fucking talking to her
But she loved it.
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday.
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk!

He was nervous when he asked her out on a date. She said yes and he took her to his favorite restaurant. She kept talking to him about the things she loved and he kept on thinking how he got so lucky all of the sudden.

When the food arrived, the salad disturbed him, he had organize it by colors. And so he did. When he was halfway done, she told him she had to go, said something came up. That's when he regretted not talking to her.