I feel trapped.
Trapped in my thoughts.
Trapped in my uncontrollable, recurring thoughts.
The thoughts that seem to torture me daily.
People tell me that it is all in my head,
but it is not just in my head.
People say that I am just looking for attention,
but I am not.
Certain things bring back memories.
Memories I wish to forget.
Memories that trigger my obsessions.
Memories that trigger my compulsions.
Everything has to be perfect,
but it seems that it is never perfect.
Why does it have to be perfect?
Why does every little thing have to be perfect to me?
I never feel clean.
I wash my hands all the time.
I wash my hands, which are not always dirty.
People tell me to stop.
But I can’t.
I can’t control it.
People tell me to stop over and over but my answer is always the same.
Why don’t they believe me?
Why can’t they see?
I am struggling.
I am suffering.
Checking things more than once is my daily routine.
Checking the door at night.
Checking the door makes me feel safe.
Safe from the things in my past.
The past that makes me feel this way.
It is not like no one else double checks things.
Why is it so wrong for me to do so?
Why do I get judged on the way I act every day?
Well, I will tell you why.
I have a mental illness.
A mental illness called OCD.
Daesha says, "I wrote this poem because I was learning about mental illnesses in my Lit. Comp. class. I also wrote it because I have a family member who deals with OCD and it shows what she goes through everyday." She is in 12th grade and attends Keokuk High School.