Part of me — the part that aspired to be the Perfect Sophomore, the Perfect Junior, the Perfect Senior — wants to spend the summer working toward becoming the Perfect College Freshman or the Perfect Adult. But she does not exist…

I’ve had my dose of jaw-dropping obsessive meltdowns, and to desensitize to these attacks, I laugh. If I don’t, I become an irrational mess in a hazmat suit, only consuming blue M&Ms and touching street lights so I won’t die. To overcome OCD, I can’t just survive. I must thrive.