i am neurotic.

I hate when someone tears a paper towel, leaving a corner still attached to the next paper towel. They are perforated for a reason!

I can absolutely not have sex with my socks on. It grosses me out and the only thing I’m able to think about the whole time is that my socks are on.

Whenever I see cooking debris or food scraps, I feel the urge to compost or recycle them; it would be a terrible waste otherwise. But I don’t want to touch other people’s food remains. Then I feel guilty for not composting that stuff. I believe that we need food scrap recycling in more places, but I feel guilty for not lobbying for that cause.

When I was younger my grandparents bought me and my brother harry potter towels. To this day I’ve never EVER used them because I’m afraid if I do, something bad will happen to my parents just like in Harry Potter.

I’m a screenwriter, and EVERY TIME I reach the middle point of my story, I absolutely convince myself that there’s a loophole so big, it’s impossible to continue.

When I’m at the grocery store unloading my cart I have to keep the like items together. Produce, frozen foods, toiletries etc. I don’t like it when they get mixed up and get especially annoyed if despite my keeping them separate, the bagger stuffs different categories of things in the same bag.

I can’t leave a place (home, work, restaurant) or go to bed without visiting the restroom first regardless of whether I have to go or not. If I don’t then I start feeling like I have to go and won’t be able to sleep or worry that I won’t be able to find a restroom.

Whenever I’m on holidays I try not to organise too many social events because I really want a few days to myself to veg out and relax. I then spend those days worrying about whether I have any friends and will die alone, having passed up invitations to sit at home and do nothing.

I count letters everywhere: a=1, b=2, c=3, etc, up until the letter f. I stop at f because that’s the highest that I can count quickly. I’ve been doing this as long as I can remember. I wish I could stop. I miss out on conversations sometimes because I’m too busy counting letters.

I was browsing at a bookstore today… I came across the I Am Neurotic book. I read the entire thing. My neuroses was blatantly confirmed by my internal monologue following many of the vignettes I read: “That’s a really good idea.”; “Oh my gosh, I hadn’t thought about people hacking into my computer and looking at me through the web cam.” So, now, here I sit, with my web cam covered, writing this post. Does it get any more neurotic than reading others’ neuroses and realizing that there is so much more I must be doing?