5:28 AM. Friday, June 18th
The clock is mocking me. Ticking each second away without care, unaware that each time it's gears shift, I move closer and closer to death. It's not fair really. Every other person that dies doesn't realize it. But me, I'm being punished for my sins. At least that is what it seems like.
Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe everyone gets this feeling on the day that they're going to die, and I'm just the only one that bothered to let the feeling get to them. That's very possible. I'm a very self-aware person. Little things bother me all the time. A small chip in paint, non-color coded book shelves, and people saying "ok" instead of "okay" are just a few of the many things that make my OCD kick in. It's not a pretty picture. Just imagine your girlfriend coming home to find you reorganizing her entire house to match your needs and screaming at you, or better yet, imagine her freaking out on you after you ask her for her phone password. All I wanted the password for was to change the word "ok" to autocorrect to "okay" in her settings, but she didn't quite believe that story.
Either way, people don't really like a guy whose OCD. "It's not natural," they'd say. No, what's not natural is having your world look like a mess. If your room isn't aesthetically pleasing, you can't really call it your room. It's where you spend most of your time, so why treat it like a garbage can? Honestly, I don't know how people live like that. Especially now that I'm sitting in my dim room, staring out at the sun as it peaks over the horizon. Taunting me, it throws shades of light dancing across my ceiling and floors. If I wasn't going to die today, I'd think it was beautiful. But because it is the last sunrise I will ever see, I resent it. It signifies the begin of my last day, and as everyone knows, endings are never as good as beginnings.
