i’m looking for something i have on myself. i’m looking but can’t find it yet. i check my pocket, check my purse, search the apartment, search every fuckin’ where. check, and re-check each place as my OCD-ish mind dictates, in uneven numbers measured @ even intervals, for some stuff vice versa, but i can’t find it yet. I try to cleanse my Self, to exfoliate, to remove the facade, but still I’m filthy, ugly, foreign … staring back at this shadow of a reflection… looking for bits of worth to cover this up, because I can’t find Me to wear.

i’m looking for something that’s poking my brain. i’m looking but can’t find it yet. i check my drawer, check the shelf, search all night and day. check, and re-check as my OCD-ish mind dictates, following its will because i can’t find my own, seeking comfort in its  false rationality because i’m running on zero to none.

i’m looking for the voices i hear. each time i get closer they move farther away in echoes and static. without direction these numbers i re-arrange but keep walking not closer but vice versa. and though i’m being led i can’t find my designated place.

i’m looking for chunks of memory to complete the empty, to feed this hunger that i can’t… as my OCD-ish mind whispers food is not just a contaminant, but a catalyst for this intangible feeling of fat…that i must obey… depressed and abandoned and obsessive and sick i fixate… because today, for once in a long time, i can’t find the strips & scraps i need to re-create the Me that I usually wear.