Walking in the Shoes of OCD

Her emotions riot as her words run scared, recoiling at the weight of her fear. Emotions, like thieves of her native tongue, dotting I's and crossing T's with gasoline. Emotions, her matchstick. Taunting, ready to strike. Emotions ignite the blaze that renders words useless, absent. Language burning in the flames. Emotions, her exhibition.

Today I decided to document my stream of consciousness for the morning (from 6:30am-8:30am), with a brief snippet from last night. Here's all the fun : Laying in bed before falling asleep: I'm not tired.  I'm never going to sleep again. My body has its own rhythm but gotta do the 9 to 5 thing. Why does my mind keep flashing to scary images? Why do I feel so out of it? Why does it feel like my mind is controlling me? Am I developing schizophrenia? Laying in bed before waking up: Gotta relax my tense legs. I should get up and exercise. I eat enough junk that exercise will balance it out. But I'm so tired. I'll only have enough energy to get through the work day and then I'll be exhausted all evening. *thinking back to last nights debate* I'm glad Rob Ford isn't the laughing stock of Canada anymore. It's good Canada is maintaining a perfect image. What is perfect? There's probably many awful things I don't know about. How am I going to have ...