So what if my compulsions can be deciphered? Can I come full circle with them? Can they be resolved, reunited with themselves, and set free? To perhaps annoy another hapless victim? Because I don’t want or need them. I don’t need them in their present form, I don’t need them in their infancies, and I don’t need them while they’ve been festering and foisting themselves on me in the intervening years. I need peace. I need undistracted wisdom. I don’t need insecurity. Or nail biting. Or nose picking. Or finger picking and squeezing tension. Or compulsive eating. Or obsessive thoughts on all manners of things, one of which is food of course. Or tension filled sleep.

I want them to be reunited. And returned to sender. They are of no use to me. Goodbye. Goodbye. It’s been nice knowing you. See you. See ya.

I need balance. I need to find a place where the fear of death and the quality of life is not filling my mind and heart with tension and dread. Let my first encounters with fear and my current adult obsessiveness emerging from them become friends of the first order. Let them have a merry old time together. They don’t need me to have fun. Fear and compulsion are fast and intimate bedfellows.