No, I am not a perfectionist. I wish that were all it was. I have OCD. This stands for “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder”, for those who don’t know. I have not been officially diagnosed– but sometimes you just know, you know? Who knows, maybe most perfectionists also have OCD? I guess I’ll never know, because I’ll never be in anybody else’s head. But for me, it’s not that my papers should be stapled this way because I happen to know that the teacher likes it this way, it’s that my papers have to be stapled this way, because I can’t sleep knowing that there are papers in my folder with three staples along the side, instead of one in the corner. For me, it’s not that I want people to be able to easily read what I wrote, it’s that if I write too messy, I will make myself re-write the whole sheet of notes. I can’t help it. I just can’t. It pisses my mom off, but I can’t control my compulsions. I always have to spit on the floor of the bathtub before I get out of the shower– twice. So if this is what a perfectionist is and why a perfectionist does what he or she does, then I guess I am one. I think my compulsions stem from my need to control everything. I like to control what goes into my body, how it looks. What my body does, how the world surrounding me looks. I have to control it. I have to control it all. This is why I always must push all the other placemats away from me, behind the line on the table where it extends for more seating room, in order for me to allow myself to eat. This is why I always must draw a heart in the fog on my glass shower door before I turn the water off and get out. This is why I do all these things- because I can’t function if I don’t. All these things no one else does, the things that always seem so strange to other people- I cannot breathe, or sleep, or eat, or dress if I do not do them. And this is why I can’t allow myself to change. It scares me, it’s something I’m not used to– I can’t do it. If I do something different or something wrong, it will drive me crazy. I won’t be able to focus on anything else. But I am usually not bothered by my disorders of the mind. Some of the most intelligent people who have ever lived on this planet have had OCD. Asperger’s. Schizophrenia. Bi-polar. Whatever. Whether it is in spite or despite these illnesses, people have always found ways to overcome their limitations and excel in any single field, without ever being really “cured”. So I am not worried about myself. But my family is. And my friends are. I don’t know why. I’m fine despite my “perfectionistism”. But oh well. I know that I’m fine. So that’s all that matters. If being this way makes me feel happy, then why should anybody care? If being this way makes me feel safe, then why should anybody worry? And it does. It makes me feel happy and safe and in control and it makes everything in the world around me a little clearer, like this is how it should be. I know that I am a smart girl and I should be able to figure it out on my own, but I can’t. I can’t figure out why they should have the right to criticize the way I live my life, when I never even asked them for their opinions? I seriously don’t get it. I don’t do it to anybody else. So why should they be able to judge me? Why judge anybody? We all have reasons for the things we do, just like I have mine. Maybe people can’t help what they do. Maybe they can’t stop living how they are. And maybe we should stop judging everybody because we will never see inside each other’s heads and understand why others do the things that they do. I have OCD, and I can’t help but be the person that I am.