It loves to tell me all the things I've ever done wrong and all the things I will never do right.
It loves to remind me of every sinister thought I've ever had and how that deems me not a pure soul.
It loves to tell me the things I have done as a result of my Obsessions, are what will surely keep me out of heaven. Will have the golden gate remain locked as God comes to examine my hands and then tells me that I am not "good enough" to enter.
It loves to tell me because of what I have done I shouldn't bother being a mother because I will surely ruin their lives.
It loves to tell me that my boyfriend doesn't deserve the pain of being with me. The additional unknown guilt of being beside me.
It loves to tell me I am an imposter a fake, a really fantastic fucking actress for being able to pretend I'm a decent human being and not a monster.
It loves to tell me that 98% of people who live with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder never act on their thoughts.
It loves to tell me I was too weak to handle that. I didn't last 2 years without believing I was a sociopath and because of that had to "prove" it to myself.
It loves to tell me I should have seeked help earlier and I wouldn't be in this mess.
It loves to tell me I did this to myself and therefore everything that comes to me, including me being sent to hell is something I no doubt deserve.
It loves to tell me that God was probably aware I was going to become a monster and because of that made my punishment be all the incurable, non preventable, non genetic, fucking falling from the air diseases I deal with.
It loves to tell me the only thing I'm good at is pretending that this isn't eating me apart every second of every day.
It has formed me into a machine of fake smiles and common motions.
It has made me so aware.
More aware of everything and everyone than I ever imagined possible.
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