I HAVE OCD BUT I'M FILTHY
I HAVE OCD BUT I'M FILTHY
A Short Story by Shamar English
I took the trash out, now I feel filthy like a dirty joke.
So, I take a shower. I’m in it for five-in-a-half minutes then
the water turns tepid then cold like ice cubes, and I jump out
of the rusty tub wet stumping my toe shivering in the freezing
bathroom trying to dry myself off before throwing on some
The hot water never lasts longer than five minutes
because my shower sucks, and I should have checked my testicles
for lumps before washing my hair like usual. I have OCD, but I
do questionable things. I wash my hands like fifty times a day,
but I masturbate like eight cups of semen a day. Where’s the
logic in that? Human error. I’m a flawed individual like a
politician. Flawed individuals usually become politicians. I
googled it. Then I used my eyes.
A lot of things freak me out, but not the normal, common
things for an average joe. Stickers. They drive me crazy like
commercials. I look at flip flops like the elephant man. Guess
what I find most attractive? Teeth. Nothing gets my sex drive
revving like clean teeth. I don’t perceive it as a fetish, but
that’s my perspective.
My fingertips smell like urine. My ears are jam with wax.
My breath smells like vomit. I brush my teeth before I go to
bed, and my breath still smells like garbage. I think I should
stop eating my food hot because I have OCD.
I can’t ever use the same plate, cup, spoon, or fork
because it’s filthy like reusing a straw every day, so I only
use paper plates, plastic cups, spoons and forks, but no sporks.
I hate sporks. I always wash my hands after I use the bathroom.
I change my underwear everyday now not because I have OCD, but
because when I don’t my skin crawls like a Basilisk slithering
through a garden of poison ivy. Every time I think about the
feeling I puke.
I don’t change my T-shirt every day. I don’t change my
socks every day. I don’t change my pants every day. I scoop the
wax from my ears like an ice cream parlor, I don’t always wash
my hands and then I eat. I don’t always use deodorant. I eat in
my bed. I don’t clean the top of the soda can off before I drink
out of it. I don’t always brush my teeth. I don’t always wash my
face. It all must be in my head because it doesn’t feel like I
It doesn’t really matter though because I’m wedged in-
between the insane and sane, clean and nasty because OCD is
ambiguous. You don’t have to be a neat freak, it isn’t all about
cleanliness, it doesn’t just stem from stress, it doesn’t
originate from childhood, it isn’t a woman disease, it’s a
people disease that doesn’t discriminate, and it’s treatable
despite all its myths. You can be clean and have OCD, you can be
nasty and have OCD. I am both and I have OCD because I am a