I’m very disappointed in poem_for_your_sprog for almost understanding this point, and then immediately making the same mistake she was calling out
‘I have to sort my books!’ she cried,
With self-indulgent glee;
With senseless,narcissisticpride:
‘I’m just so OCD!’
‘How random, guys!’ I smiled and said,
Then left without a peep -
And washed my hands until they bled,
And cried myself to sleep.
We often wanted to use these terms, but they were loaded with generational guilt.
Language is a dialogue, a process. Not a snapshot.