The Most Honest And Heartbreaking Reason To Leave Your Front Door Unlocked I've Ever Heard

Adam Mordecai Curated by

So there's this thing called obsessive-compulsive disorder, or OCD. If you are me and only have the mild version, you end up rearranging the dishes in the dishwasher or checking to make sure you have your keys four times before leaving the house on the off chance you forgot, or alphabetizing your DVDs one too many times. If you are this guy, things can get a lot worse. And beautiful. And tragic.

Neil Hilborn, the amazing guy who wrote this, had this to say after we wrote it up: "I am overwhelmed and humbled by the support and compliments that have been all around me these past few days."

If you want to see more of his amazing work, you could Like him on Facebook. And you think others should see this (like the 1,500,000 people who already did) you could continue to help overwhelm him in a good way and tweet and share this. Totally your call though.

Transcript:
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The first time I saw her...

Everything in my head went quiet.

All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments.

Even in bed, I’m thinking:

Did I lock the doors? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

Did I lock the doors? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips..

Or the eyelash on her cheek—

the eyelash on her cheek—

the eyelash on her cheek.

I knew I had to talk to her.

I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.

She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.

On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or fucking talking to her...

But she loved it.

She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday.

She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk.

When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.

I’d always watch her mouth when she talked—

when she talked—

when she talked—

when she talked

when she talked;

when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.

At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off.

She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her.

Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was

just making her late for work...

When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking...

When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line.

She told me that I was taking up too much of her time.

Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place.

She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but...

How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her?

Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t.

I can’t – I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her.

Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin.

I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars...

And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.

I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel..

How she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe.

How she blows out candles—

blows out candles—

blows out candles—

blows out candles—

blows out candles—

blows out…

Now, I just think about who else is kissing her.

I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he doesn’t care if it’s perfect!

I want her back so bad...

I leave the door unlocked.

I leave the lights on.

There may be small errors in this transcript.
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ORIGINAL: By Neil Hilborn for Button Poetry. Submitted by poetry fan and Internet chum Jess Sloss.

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