63 Word Essay About Madness

The faucet is going to drip blood, but when I turn the knob water trickles out. I’ve hidden knives in every nook, behind books and deep in drawers. Mittens on my hands despite the summer keep me from doing harm. I close the curtains, afraid to see the neighbor’s toddler, haunted by things I may do to her. OCD is such a bitch.

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