It makes you think about things that you would otherwise have absolutely zero interest in thinking about. That’s all that consumes your mind, to be honest. That’s about… hmm, ninety percent of your time of day, or roundabout that percentage, simply trying to survive the OCD. That’s… really difficult and frustrating and certainly… beyond the scope of anyone’s mind. Truly. It’s.. about as hot-wired as a mind and brain can surely get. But never, ever can I have imagined myself having to live with an illness of the mind so very secretive and lonesome in so far as it all boils down to mental rumination to alleviate the pain which, of course, takes place inside of your mind. Hence the secretive nature to it all. Thoughts. Thoughts that make you utterly believe that something seriously horrific WILL happen if you DO NOT figure out WHAT IS ACTUALLY WRONG. I’ve jaded all angles with this disorder and ever since the age of eleven. I don’t really get to know yet what I think of myself, my personality, or maybe even what people make of me. I guess, on their side of things, they only ever really just see someone who is either A)extremely worried deep down but still standing upright and trying to be as balanced as they possibly can, or, I suppose, B) close to bedridden by it all – my family, mainly, on that latter score. Either way, none of that really means anything except to say that… yeah. I dunno what to say right now about it.