OCD, the Dude, and Me - By Lauren Roedy Vaughn Page 0,21

possessed by a demon.

“Awesome.”

But then I looked through my purse and realized I didn’t have my medicine with me. I never do. I take it at home. So I had to tell her I didn’t have it, and I looked like a scared freak and then she said, “Of course you don’t have it. Shit. You always disappoint.” And then she crushed my hat back down on my head as she walked away.

Keira said something about how now she could study without the chatterbox bugging her, and I picked at the paint on the table so hard that I made the skin under my fingernails bleed.

My own comment to myself: You’re a moron.

*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 2/28

E-mail #4 to Forever Aunt Joyce

Dear Aunt Joyce,

So we are getting ready to go to England with the class. The entire class, mind you. Mom took me shopping and bought me some clothes I don’t want that look hideous on me. I don’t want to travel around England with a bunch of kids who can’t stand me, who talk to me only when they want something from me, who miss the bigger picture always, and who make me generally feel like a loser. Can you take me to the airport and pretend like you drop me off on Saturday but really you take me home with you and I just hide out in your condo? I won’t leave the premises. My parents will never know. I swear. When we get to the airport, I will fake cancer or the stomach flu or hysteria so my teachers let me leave . . . I won’t even have to fake the hysteria.

PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!

Desperate Danielle

*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 2/28

E-Mail #3 from Aunt Joyce, who does not come through in a pinch

Danielle,

I will drive you to the airport. I was planning to go with you and your parents anyway to take pictures of this big event. No, you cannot hide out in my condo. You are hiding out enough in your own life, and I want you to step forth. You are living far too much in the realms of your head. That is an ugly, mean, scary place to be. I am not just saying your head is nasty, everyone’s head is. You need to vacate that premise immediately and start living in your heart. Your heart is a much nicer social venue. Our mind is a crazy nightclub of cacophonous sound filled with strange images and one-night stands: our mind tells us lonely, loveless tales that leave us frightened but really have no lasting power, like Mark that graphic designer I met at a rave who told me that he once woke up in a crack den in New York wielding an ax. I should have known then, but, alas, you know the rest. . . . Anyway, the heart is the symphony that supplants this noise. It knows. It knows truths beyond this realm, but we can only find those things if we listen, if we step into its melody. You, girl, by no real fault of your own, are shutting out the music of the heart.

And, you know how I know all this? Because you are right, I have lived through mess and it has made me wise.

Did you ever consider trying to connect with some of these people that you view as cretins? If not, perhaps this trip will force that to happen. Sometimes our best decisions are made for us. Get packing! I bought you a pair of Chuck Taylors that have a Union Jack design. I’ll bring them to the airport.

Love you,

Your Forever Aunt Joyce

*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 2/28

E-Mail #4 to Annoying Aunt Joyce

Joyce,

I am beyond pissed at you. I am being therapist-ized by too many people. You are the place I turn to for acceptance and agreement. WTF?? You don’t go to school with these people. You don’t know. Also, life is just grand for you, and you can embrace the luxury of “living from your heart” because your delicate organ is cased perfectly in a size two body! My heart can barely be found beneath the rolls and rolls of fat that cover it the fuck up!! Also, in my heart is that horrifically painful love for that boy I told you about, and so why on God’s scorched earth would I want to live there? It is a frickin’ minefield of despair, to be perfectly honest. My head is at least logical. It knows how crazy I am, how crazy everyone else