Dear Past/Present/Future Crushes,
You’re probably feeling pretty smug. You probably think your lean physique and charming smile is what got me hooked. Or how you volunteer at The Ronald McDonald House every week. Or how you’re funny, but not cocky enough to try stand-up. You’re not wrong, but you’re also not right.
Sure, the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking is pretty adorable, but that’s not why I think about you all the time. I think about you all the time because I have OCD.
In case you’ve been fortunate enough to have never come across that acronym, it stands for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I’m not going to talk much about the compulsions, because that’s not relevant to this heartfelt letter I’m sending by way of carrier pigeon. I’m here to talk about the obsessions–those pesky thoughts that whisper or yell at me all day, every day.
And this is no fun obsession. I have cried myself to sleep because my brain wouldn’t stop thinking of you, even though I was taking the ACT the next day and needed a good night’s sleep. You kept me up an extra 2 hours. I resent you for that.
So yes, when I’m brushing my teeth my brain likes to remind me that you probably brush your teeth too. And yes, when I see a little kid on the bus, I think of that time you got a baby to stop crying by putting your glasses on your head and pretending you didn’t know where they went. But you know what else I obsess over? I think about how I could be wrongly accused of a crime at any moment, and my lawyer probably won’t be able to convince the jury that I, in fact, did not punch that cop, so I’ll be sent to jail for a year, and then how will I find a job after I’m released!?!?
Am I sexually attracted to that fantasy? Do I love how nice that fantasy is to kids? Or how that fantasy visits its grandma in the nursing home every week? Absolutely not. But I think about it a lot. I once spent an entire day crying in my room, coming up with my defense; “If I punched the cop on Wednesday, then how were my hands in perfect condition to help my volleyball team make it to State on Thursday!?” Man, if only I played volleyball.
Why am I telling you this? I’m trying to let you know you’re not special. I feel like you’re getting a big head, and I need to squeeze a little air out. You’re just my obsession right now. I’ve had a lot of obsessions, and none of them are special. Sure that month when I only listened to Pumped Up Kicks was a fun month, but when I got sick of it, I didn’t hesitate to immediately replace it with Billionaire.
I’m trying to let you know you’re temporary. The thoughts of you are fleeting. You’re just X in X + Me= Obsession. And if I were to get to know you, or go on a few dates with you, I’m sure I would soon realize you don’t live up to all the hype.
I’m not saying you’re not a good person. You might be! But my obsessions don’t discriminate. I can obsess over literally anything.
So if you’re sitting at home, reading this, thinking I might have a crush on you (in the past, present, or future), I might. But I’m just letting you know you’re not special. Unless you’re into me too, in which case you’re super special and we should hang out some time.