Oh, yeah, I hate it when people accuse me of faking. Like I spent the past 29 years going through all this washing and having big dreams and not going for them and planning for days of fun, only to have them cut short and ruined because I had to go home and wash and get clean. Yeah, I wasn't serious about my dreams, and didn't want to work for them, so I made all this up so I could be lazy.
Just like when we last moved. I couldn't lift the furniture, anyway, but my OCD was going through hell as it was (long story, just take my word for it), and my boyfriend told me to sit on the steps outside our apartment and let him and his friend carry out the furniture. At one point, I heard his friend coming upstairs to get more furniture, and I turned to look at him, then turned back. Later, my bf told me his friend had apologized to him because he thought I'd heard him when I'd turned to look at him that time before. He'd said to himself, "Why don't you get off your fat *** and help us?" My bf has told many people about my OCD (not always with my permission), and most don't get it. His sister is one of the few people who has actually gotten angry over the way people have treated me.
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Maven
If I had a dollar for every time I got distracted, I wish I had some ice cream.
Equal Rights Are Not Special Rights
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