Clean Freak

I always keep everything around me clean. You can call me a clean freak; I don't care. I don't need any people judging me anyway. 
Though I try so hard to remain unnoticed, it can't be helped. I can never sit down on anything without putting a clean handkerchief over it. I don't touch things in public transportation with my bare hands, so I have to bring gloves all the time and keep distance from the people standing or sitting close to me. I also don't like inhaling the air outside, so I wear a mask to prevent myself from catching any disease-causing germs. Most of the times I get into a fight whenever people try to stick their filthy skins to me. Goodness. Those sweat-covered, sticky skins make me shudder.
In my house, everything has to be dusted off everyday. Every twelve hours is better. The floors and figurines must be kept crystal clean. The mirrors and windows must be as clear as water. The sheets and curtains must be changed every three days. The plates, along with the kitchen utensils, must be kept glossy. I like everything clean. Cleanliness is next to godliness.
I don't have many visitors, but when I do, they must wipe their feet clean on the rags outside before entering. They aren't allowed to touch my stuff without washing their hands first. I don't want their filthy hands touching my belongings. That's why I prefer being alone than have people spreading their dirt inside my house.
When it comes to my clothes, I make sure that they are always washed, ironed and hung properly. I don't wait for my used clothes to pile on. I wash them right away.
My personal hygiene is top class. I scrub all the time, making sure that no dirt is left clinging to my skin. Sometimes it takes me two hours to finish just because of it. I apply shampoo and rinse my hair three times until I feel clean. I brush my teeth so hard that sometimes my gums end up bleeding. My nose and ears have to be cleansed regularly as well.
I never feel satisfied though. There's this urge inside of me that makes me want to clean myself even more. To clean my surroundings even more. I feel like my efforts aren't enough. It's an irritating feeling; so I try to forget about it by sleeping it off.
One day, I ended up taking a nap at work to forget about that urge. I'd never felt so comfortable before. It was like I was put in a long, deep sleep. But when I woke up, I noticed that my co-workers were sniggering around me.
Intrigued, I touched my face but felt nothing odd; so I took a mirror and looked at myself. I heard myself gasp when I saw a drawing of a little flower in black ink on my right cheek.
They did this to me for sure. They would pay for this.
I snatched a tissue right away and tried wiping it off; but it didn't disappear. Panicking, I got to my feet and ran to the restroom. When I got there, I locked the door immediately to keep anyone from disturbing me. Then I ran the water and splashed it on my face, using my handkerchief to rub off the hideous drawing.
After a few minutes of rubbing, my skin was already red and swollen; yet the ink was still there. It was like nothing had changed. However, I just rolled my sleeves up to keep them from getting wet.
Horror struck me in the face when I saw the same drawings of flowers on both of my wrists. They even wrote the word FREAK underneath the flowers.
Damn it. They would really pay for this.
As I stared at my wrists, the urge to remove the filth got stronger. I couldn't stay like this any longer. I had to remove the dirt from my body.
I looked for a bleach in the restroom but found nothing. I found a metal scrub though. So I grabbed it right away and used it to scrub the drawing off one of my wrists under the running water. I scrubbed hard without stopping until the water became red. Curious, I stopped to look at my wrist. It had scratches and it was bleeding; yet the drawing was still there.
I had to remove it. This scrub wasn't working.
I searched for other cleaning tools in the room. Nothing. There was nothing.
Frustrated, I fell sitting on the floor and began to sob. This wasn't happening to me. I couldn't let this filth get to me. If only I could remove this drawing off my skin. If only…
I stared at my bleeding wrist again. Some parts of the flower had been scratched off, leaving those parts skinless and bloody red.
All of a sudden, an idea entered my mind. I fished the pocket knife out of my back pocket and stood in front of the mirror, a silly grin on my face. This dirt was mocking me. It wanted me to remove it. I should remove it then.
I placed the blade on my wrist and began slicing off the remaining inked skin. A delightful happiness filled me when the drawing was finally removed. I moved to my next wrist and did the same until no sign of that thing was left. The sink was filthy though. It was full of discarded skins. I had to clean that later.
I peeled the skin off my cheek next. I was so happy I was even laughing as I tore the flesh that came with it.
When I was finally finished, I dropped the knife and looked myself in the mirror. I was almost clean now. No more filthy drawings on my cheek and wrists.
I had to wash my clothes soon. I was bleeding all over. It would be hard to remove the stains if I waited any longer.
But before that, I had to remove this drawing on the side of my neck. They thought they could trick me. They thought I'd miss this spot. They're wrong. So wrong.
Category:Mental Illness