I developed it when I was about nine years old. My parents didn't know what it was. They just thought my rituals were weird. My mother once said they made me look "retarded". I still have it, but it's ramped down, at least as far as it's noticeable to others. It's no doubt a part of my overall anxiety disorder. But still, those numbers at the gas pump can't add up to 13. And I have to have some kind of small, hard object to squeeze every now and then when I'm at my computer desk.
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