Not sure how much of these thoughts I can take, I feel like everyday I'm getting closer and closer to insanity. I can't get the thoughts out, I can't see a reason to live, I can't do anything. I just hide in my room because of this monster I think I am, and feel like I shouldn't be allowed outdoors. I don't wanna die but this pain won't go away. I hope one day it gets better.

Everyday just gets worse and worse and there’s no way to escape the cycle. This constant feeling of dread and guilt I can’t stand it. I have no one to talk to about any of this because I have a fear of them thinking of me different and I don’t like putting my problems on people it just makes me feel like I want attention or something like even when I’m writing this paragraph. I’m stuck in a constant loop. Constant aggressive thoughts and compulsions. I’m 18 and I don’t know about any of my insurance or anything so I can’t get a therapist on here and I really don’t wanna talk to my mom about any of this. I dread having to wake up everyone morning and continue with this shit all day every day. I hate complaining but I just can’t stand this. I don’t know what to do. I’m slowly losing every inch of my mind.

I have a lot of thoughts about the universe, and they’re overwhelming—like being caught in a rip current, except it’s all inside my head. Most of the time, they’re about how small we are, how there really isn’t a “we” because our bodies aren’t truly ours—we’re just bacteria, cells, and microbes. The thoughts spiral, deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller, coiling until suddenly, I’m pulled under, drowning in a whirlpool. I’ve never felt like this before, and I’m convinced I’ve been faking it somehow. For the past few weeks, my OCD has been worse than it’s ever been in my 20 years of life. Or maybe I’m just more aware of it now. Has anyone else had their OCD suddenly get really bad? Does it ever end—if it even can? I’ve convinced myself that my intrusive thoughts aren’t actually intrusive, that my OCD is a choice, and that everything I do is intentional. As for compulsions, I don’t have the typical “If I don’t do ____ then ____ will happen” kind of thoughts. Instead, my brain simply commands, “Do ____,” and I always give in. It’s so loud in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an imposter. Like I don’t belong here—like my presence on this app is an intrusion, invalidating everyone else’s struggles just by downloading it and daring to post. If anyone feels that way, if you think I’m intruding, I’m sorry. I only came here because I have no one to share my diagnosis with. Pouring my thoughts out, hoping someone might understand, feels less suffocating than journaling. Journaling is like letting a wound fester—each word burying the thoughts deeper, leaving them to decay in silence, for nobody to ever read but myself.

I've found myself writhing on the ground from intrusive thoughts of my past. I have bruises all over from me hitting myself. Every waking moment is a nightmare, I can't do anything. Can't let people be mean. But standing up for myself turns into cruelty. Cruelty turns into a loathing, and then I fear that everyone hates me. I wish I could die, and live again. I don't want to lose my life, but I can't live like this.