I have a seat. A seat I always must sit in. If I visit somewhere for extended periods of time, I will find a seat there. But if someone sits in my seat, I feel violated.
Hey! That's mine!
I can't sit somewhere else. I feel uncomfortable. I have to sit in my seat. It is my personal santuary. It is my throne. I am ruler of that spot on the couch. I am the supreme overlord of that universe. I am Darth Vader and that seat is my death star. My OCD, the emperor.
HEY! DON'T BLOW UP MY DEATH STAR!
Then my friend sits down. IN MY SEAT. The room starts swirling around me. My life is out of control. I feel powerless. The floor opens and I fall into a black hole. I see my life flash before my eyes.
GET YOUR OWN SEAT!
I fight for it. I threaten to sit on him. He says he doesn't mind. It would work better if I were a hefty man with bad B.O. I find myself wishing I had a contageous skin rash. Or weighed 300 pounds. Or looked like Marcellus Wallace from Pulp fiction. I bet nobody sits in his seat.
YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I AM ANGRY!
Finally, something comes over me. I turn from Bruce Banner to the Hulk. I grab his arm and pull him out of the seat. Granted, I am about 5'10, weigh more than I would like to admit (although most of it is muscle), and used to be a middleweight boxer, I use an amount of strength that I had no idea I had. I pull him out of the seat and throw him across the room. He flies through the air almost in slow motion and hits the wall across the room.
TOLD YOU SO!
I sit in my seat like a queen reclaiming her throne. But my victory is hollow. It is not my own. I am a slave to OCD. I have once again succombed to its demands. I am more machine than man. I am Lynnette Fromme and my OCD is Charles Manson. It controls me more than I like to say.
NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!
I would like to pretend I am not violent, but it is only a matter of time before it spins too far out of control. How long before I become Joan Crawford? How long before I turn on my loved ones and succomb to the dark side? Only time will tell. But for now, all I can do is find comfort in the security that my seat brings. My center of the universe. My death star. My moment of glory. Until one day it blows up in my face and maybe, just maybe, sets me free.