The girl that I was?

Before OCD?

Oh, how I remember her so vividly.

It’s been so long since we’ve talked. I sometimes wonder, if she is even still around.

I can remember it all.

The way her eyes lit up, at the sight of even the smallest of things.

The way she sang to every song on the radio. The way she danced. Laughed.

Oh, how she laughed.

I remember it all.

She can’t really do those things anymore.

And if she can, she sure doesn’t show it.

I wonder what it will take.

For that girl. The girl I once was. To come back around.

Oh, how I miss her. I think about her everyday.

Sometimes,

I wonder, if she thinks about me too.

Or is she truly, that far gone.

You see?

OCD, it took all of those things, and ran. The things that made her, her. Those are all memories of the past now.

She can no longer sing in the car. The words. They are all too triggering.

She drives. In silence. A prisoner to the compulsions her mind tells her she has to perform.

Her smile?

It took that too.

She doesn’t really dance anymore. Or see her friends, really. She remembers the nights spent doing things that she loved. She thinks of them fondly.

But now?

She spends her nights alone.

Her friends? They reach out to her. Message after message. And yet, she cannot even read them. The words. The possibilities. They are all too much to bear.

You see? That girl?

She doesn’t come around much anymore.

I look around, everywhere, for reminders of her.

I simply, want to tell her that I miss her, so.

But the reminders? They are growing slim.

Harder to find. Few and far between.

The memory of her? It echoes.

All around me.

Old photographs – as reminders.

Reminders, of a time no more.

With the only reminders I see now –

Fading.

Her disorder.

A mere replacement.

For the girl she was ..

.. Before.