This is part of a series of ongoing OCD episodes, which I will post as they happen. This is live, stream of consciousness. It happens. Often. Sometimes the subjects are different.
5:10 PM, Tuesday.
It. It is there. The thought. The many ways things can go from It, each possibility. Every single eventuality, they’re in my brain at the same time. The focus is prioritized on the hell It could bring. It. It is still there. Someone is talking, but there is no room in my brain, as It needs to be the focus right now. It cannot be solved, It is in the past.
I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. Why can’t I go back into the past and not have It exist? Why can’t that be done? It is here now. All of the shit that could happen because of It. All of the shit- probably won’t happen. Fuck you for thinking It may not be a problem. It exists. There is a potential… for problems.
It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It! It! It! It! Everything is It. Everything reminds me of It, clearly an omen. Clearly an omen. Clearly an omen. I want to go back into the past and not have It exist. I could have had It not exist. I am stupid. I did things to make It exist. I don’t want this life if It is going to exist. There is something on the television, I change the channel, the show reminds me of It. An omen.
There is no use to anything at all, anywhere, anything, nothing, everything- all useless. This is a mood, this is my brain taking over. My brain is now driving.
I am a passenger.
I’m just thinking. I’m just thinking. No. It is bigger, It is real. I breathe, I think- fuck, there’s no room to think. Others around me- fuck them, they’re happy and thinking of things and able… just able and fuck them. They have a day today. I don’t have a day. I have It. It. Just It. That is my day- thinking of It. Every possibility is a terrible hell none of these people would want to encounter. I have not encountered anything yet, but the potential is there, so let… I will think of It. I’m not the one doing the thinking up here in my head. It exists. It is there. The thought. The many ways things can go from It, each possibility. Every single eventuality, they’re in my brain at the same time.
I look at myself. I think of looking at myself. I have a small amount of comfort in forcing through an anger at nothing, well, everything. It is back, I am done thinking. It. It. It.
Sounds, fuck the sounds. I have no room for sounds. Everyone… STOP DOING THINGS. STOP. JUST STOP. STOP DOING THINGS. No one is listening, no one knows about It.
Every one of these people have happy fucking lives they’re just going on with. None of them have thoughts like I have thoughts. I have countless thoughts about what It will turn into. There is a God and that God is not happy that I caused It. I made It happen. I need to go back in time not have It exist. And fuck all these people… their sounds and emptiness, they don’t have an It. I don’t want to be them, I just want them gone. I have to focus on It. That is what I have to focus on.
This is hell. I am in hell for something I could not control: It. No one else is in hell. STOP! Back to It. Thinking, thinking, thinking… nothing is working… I cannot think my way away from It. I can just think… I can think in two modes: I can think of It, and I can think of what will happen because of It. There must be twenty… no, one-hundred… no, thousands of ways things can go from It. But I must focus on the worst and go from there. But there is no going from there. Just the worst possible outcome, I will stay focused on that. No, It. It is there. I think just of It. It cannot be removed. It. It. It. It. It. It. It. It.
It. It. It. It. It. It. It.
I want to go back in time.
I want everyone around me to stop. I need to think.
I need to think about It.
I am tired. My thoughts are not tired.
I will go numb now. I will think of It… in a short while.
I want to go back in time. There must be a way. STOP. Numb!
No, It. Back to It.
9:34 PM, Tuesday.