How to Survive When Everything You Eat Is Poison
My OCD manifests as an overwhelming suspicion that my food is infested with disease and bodily fluids. After years of hungry suffering, I finally found a way to cope.
Illustrations by Jared Freschman
The first time I thought someone contaminated my food was at the Paramus Park mall food court when I was 12. As the employee handed me an extra gooey Cinnabon nestled in crinkly tissue, I noticed he had a scab and a Band-Aid crossing his knuckles.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly feeling like the floor had dropped out from under me.
I walked over to the small table where my friend was waiting. I stared at the Cinnabon. Suddenly, it seemed as though the sweet treat was crawling with disease. I could almost see blood and scabs in the cinnamon, pus in the sugary glaze.
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