blink. eight times fast. or she falls down the stairs in the night. she lifts up from between her girlfriend's legs, swallowing her taste. “sorry. yeah, i'm okay. i just have to—”
she obeys. she blinks. gives her head a little shake, then slides her hands around warm thighs and ducks back between them. but now she's given in once, the thoughts bite in deeper. she secretly hates you. thinks you're shit at eating her out. bet she's pitying you right now. lick more left. over. up. do that again. right there. four more times. four more. make eight. shin feels weird. rub it off bed like this. not like that. are you stupid? like this. yeah, there. god, I bet she's laughing at you. you look so stupid right now. bet she gossips about her batshit girl. blink hard. squeeze your eyes tight so she won't hate you. nails into skin. her hands go to her head and she reflexively tries to smack her forehead to get her mind to shut the everloving fuck up. “oh, fucking shut up—“
but the relief won't take hold, and she has to squint as the thoughts batter her again. this time as flashes of unwanted images. her girlfriend crying. a squashed lump of roadkill. ew. both of them, curled in their kitchen as it goes up in flames. "sorry. i'm sorry. it's really loud. i'm really sorry. i—"
the words i promise i'm not crazy wither out on her tongue. it's not a statement she's ever needed to say to her current girlfriend, but it's the filler line she's dropped whenever she talked about her compulsions throughout the years. yeah, my brain tells me to do things so bad things don't happen. yeah, i have panic attacks about it. yeah. yeah, no i'm totally sane. i'm so chill. It's a stupid deflection, and it's unneeded. she's not crazy. she does occasionally feel like she's going crazy. but that's just life, right?
her girlfriend's gentle voice breaks through.
"babe? we can take a break, if you need?"
it's so sweet. beyond kind. but she's been trying desperately not to give in. shut the fuck up. quiet the fuck down. focus on her. she can ride through the compulsions, the thoughts that jump out at her like the first five minutes of a cheap horror movie. she can do this. she's not going to give in.
"no," she breathes softly. for extra comfort, she traces a faded freckle on her girlfriend's hipbone.
"no, i'm okay.
"you sure?"
"yeah. yeah."
she hears the relief in her exhale. "okay. good.”
her girlfriend shifts her thighs and both of them focus in with the slick sound. right now, this is the only thing that matters. the only obsession she wants to chase is the relationship they share, the moments they spend together, the moments like this. nothing else, inside her mind or out, is going to keep her from that. she returns to her task gladly, mind forcibly quietened. ignore it.
it's just thoughts. not reality.
every day, she's just going to remind herself of that. some day soon, she won't even need the reminder at all, and that's a thought that keeps her going.