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.

They are doing this on purpose. I know they are not doing this on purpose. But why are they doing this? Why the mess. No, not the mess around the house or any of that stuff… the real mess. The mental mess. The mess of mentality.

I am trying to stop thinking the world is against me. Trying. But the world—really, the people in it—are doing a pretty poor job presenting evidence to the contrary.

“Stop thinking the world is against me. Stop thinking the world is against me. Stop thinking the world is against me. Stop thinking the world is against me. Stop thinking the world is against me. Stop thinking the world is against me,” I repeat to myself purposely without an exclamation point. It is a subdued mantra. It is also meaningless, as the part of my brain that I have no control of has the concept of the world being against me seeping in. Slowly, but it is seeping in.

Why are people such a mess? You know what that doesn’t matter. Why are people such a mess, and why does this mess get thrown onto me to solve or even entertain? Why am I part of this messy world? Why can’t it exist outside of me, leaving me alone to do things according to my own perfection? Oh, I am not perfect, I’ll stop thinking that before I even think it. But without others around, I am perfect for my own self.

There are things to get done. Others are involved. Why can’t it just be me, why can’t I just build an architecture of input and consequence where only I am involved?

I do not like others.

I do not like others being involved.

I do not like others affecting me.

Others are generally not well set-up people¹.

I have no control over others. Yet my fate relies on them, as I guess I do live in a society. I’m sick of asking questions, I’m sick of building my own dream world without others involved—because it is not going to happen. I’ve tried. I need to live in this world with others.

And they fuck up. They keep fucking up. At least—and here I go again—when I fuck up it affects only myself. Almost always. Ok, not nearly always… but here I am right now with others fucking up and affecting me. Why?

No, really… why?

Why are others involved in my life? I didn’t choose this. I went about trying to make a world that is perfect for me, and somehow others got involved.

Others. They don’t work. They seem to not want to work, to organize, to anticipate, to do—right.

I’m not moving to an island populated only by myself. I think I’ve lived that in my mind.

But I can’t deal with others. I can’t deal with the mess they accept as something ok to present to the world, to me.

I don’t want others.

I… don’t want… others.

I understand, others.