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What was that?
A short poem I made to try and capture my experiences with OCD after several friends asked me to try and describe my specific form of OCD- harm OCD. The initial line that the poem permutates is from T.S. Eliot’s “Genortion”. The poem is not a pleasant or subtle thing, it’s not even really clever. Nonetheless, I think that if you read it out loud, line by line, and force yourself to be fully present throughout it, and combine that with some background reading on what harm OCD is, and is like… Then you might get a sense of what it felt like for me and for countless others to think that our entire lives had been ruined by a thought that, paradoxically due to how abhorrent, terrifying and opposed to our own natures it was, could not be dislodged. A thought that had dug into my every memory and anticipation of the future, replicating like a computer virus running on my brain’s squishware. I’m doing a lot better now, thanks to friends, professional help, lifestyle changes and a concerted mental effort.
DePonySum 