Horror Of OCD By Katie

The horror of OCD, unedited, pure, terrifying and one of a kind. And it all takes place here, in the corridors of Uckfield Community Technology College. A tale of utter fear with one only outcome of DEATH!

The journey begins on Wednesday, 25th January, 2017, at 8:45 am. A simple group of students, unaware of what they shall uncover. A straightforward walk, from corridor to corridor, in search of the lessons in which they must participate. An absolute hate will grow as the unholiest of crimes unfolds before their very eyes...OUT OF PLACE OBJECTS.

Before school has even begun, life is already hell. Thanks to CERTAIN friends we are most certainly NOT GOING TO NAME *cough* ABIGAIL

Screams echoed through the corridors (when I say screams I mean squealing in protest of me destorying the crisp packet) and many odd looks were offered from passers-by who appeared to have a lot to say on the matter of me angrily jumping onto a bag of pickled oninon monster munch (still with food in). After an argument about who should pick up the remaining crumbs currently decorating the floor quite artistically (much better than the builders who built this school could manage), Steph quickly decided to end the dispute by kicking the crumbs into a gap in the skirting boards for the rats to deal with and then announced that it was probably a good idea to go to science. However I held one small problem before we could go anywhere...



The drain placement

There are countless of these odd metal frames that appear to serve no purpose except to be laid badly for the WORLD TO SEE


I could have laid this floor better than these builders

And this floor

Does this even need an explaination?


Ocd is not a disease that bothers; it's a disease that tortures... - J.J Keeler

After an imminant mental breakdown, several packets of tissues later (which I also screamed about because they had 7 tissues in each which is UNEVEN and UNLUCKY) and even more stare-offs, break was finally on the agenda. But wait...


By this point, I am just about ready to burst into tears. In one breaktime I recieved several stern warnings for shouting and when someone walked passed with wonky badges pinned on their blazer I lost it. I was consumed by the NEED to change it. I was dragged kicking and screaming (quite literally) to assembly which DID NOT help with the off centre projector screen.

I had realised by now that crying was my only option. But wait. JUST WAIT A MINUTE.

I.T, in co4, with Mr. Shrimpton. I have nothing against I.T or Mr. Shrimpton. His room however. I HOLD MUCH AGAINST.

Everything wrong with co4

The ALIGNMENT (or lack of)

the angle of the poster

the eyes, the outline, the angle of each piece of paper, the EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS PHOTO




it takes literally two seconds to fix this

One blind built in, one on top and the ANGLE

1) THERE IS A MISSING DRAW 2) The angle of the STICKERS 3) The angle of the draws themselves

The MEME wall (ft. Indra's arms)


This plug socket


By the end of the day, I am surprised I am still standing. Many people wish to state the obvious about my clear concern for people's inability to keep things in order. I am literally ready to collapse to the floor and containing my wish to scream at the top of my lungs about the matter is running very, VERY thin. Through gritted teeth, I managed to escape the lesson on time but soon start ranting after we have made it outside.

After five minutes of walking through crowds full of wonky posters and oddly-angles tiles I let out an almighty scream which (to say the least) startled a few people and triggered a few comments conatining some choice words.

By this stage it is very obvious that the logical and paranoid voices in my head have started yet another argument as to why we should or should not go over there and fix the leaflet pinned to the wall. I can tell that my eyebrow it twitching and even demons themselves are beginning to run for cover.

Eventually, we reach Sasha's house and she invites me in.


I abruptly decide that my mother has booked a sudden dentist appointment and is in a state of absolute crisis all of a sudden and dash off actually forgetting my science homework and headphones.

When I eventually reach home (the place of bed) I run upstairs and scream at the sight of my room. Books, hairbands, clothes and pens just about everywhere. My newly made bed is ruined. I drop my bag in shock and let out a god almighty scream that alerts the neighbours I have obviously been brutally murdered by the hoover (the only thing currently occupying the house with my that could, of course, grow legs and strangle me to death).

Now all that is left to do is find that rat of a small child that is apparently my sibling and repeat this all tomorrow...

The end

**DISCLAIMER**: I am not making fun of OCD this is only made as a joke. I did not intend to talk down having OCD in any way. To everyone battling OCD, you probably shouldn't have read this.

Please don't kill me :)

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