O-C-D

It's only been four days since she came, the miracle. It's been 4 days since I held her hand and felt the infusion of her care in my blood. I asked to hold her hand because I miss the sense of assurance it brings and I was euphoric with the way she held onto mine - not limply, but with all the strength her tiny hand could say "It's ok because I'm here with you".

Of course she was tense, people don't go around asking to hold hands regardless of the other party's gender. But I felt that she cared and was sure of it. After all, she did come to visit me despite her busy schedule. I'm addicted to her, but it's not a romantic love. I cannot define it. It's like a reciprocal love but so... precious to me. I love her because she loves me, but I also want her to admire me. I think I want my tenacity to produce outstanding grades despite my circumstances and at the end of the day, I want HER to beam proudly at me. What is this love?

4 days since and I'm backsliding. With each slide I feel like my spirits are cut - slide, cut, slide, cut - like a bar of soap on rain-moist rocks. The confidence is fading fast and getting the answers right doesn't seem to count for much unless someone else esteems me for it. I suppose that's what the school system does: it prices recognition on grades but no matter how good my answers, only Mr. Sim ever gives me any praise for it.

I just want to hold her hand again. Small things mean a lot in times like these. I want to call her again, I want to hold her hand again - I want to hold her - and feel the warmth and comfort only she seems to able to give. It's different, special. But I tell myself to be strong and stand on my own again. I want her to see me strong and tall, not some fragile miserable creature... but I can't deny that every moment I wish she was here with me. Do I want to win her? To possess her love?


OCD means I write my notes, crush them, write them again, tear them, write tear crush write tear crush write tear blanco crush to make it "pretty and perfect" - but all I'm writing is how crushed and torn I am inside.

Back to my books.