Remembering You
Fidgeting

Sometimes people make me feel bad. I will not look at them in the eyes. I start to fidget when they get close. My mom said when I was younger, I would never do this.

Now, I am straightening up aisles, as if it will avoid my issues up front. I will say it cures my OCD, when it helps my anxiety. I try to focus on one thing at a time. Like the floor being so filthy it needs to be swept a dozen times. Or the shelf is not straight. Or the items ae not pushed forward. The stapler is not aligned correctly with the tape.

I start to fidget because so much is crashing down as once. The papers are not straight. One is bigger than the other. One is longer than the other. Wait. When did the floor get so filthy again?

Time to sweep for the thousandth time.

I never used to be this way. I did not mind the mess of the world around me. But, for some reason, cleaning the mess around me cures my anxiety. Rather than me sit and mentally break down every five seconds.

The shelf is not straight. The objects are not aligned. You are still staring at me expecting eye contact; while I am fidgeting to find an escape.

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