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Aki4705
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PathStep 1 Compassion hearts43 Forum posts13 Forum upvotes23 Current upvotes23 Age GroupAdult Last activeJune, 2026 Member sinceMarch 31, 2025
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OCD: Obsessive thoughts and the morbid fantasies that follow suit
OCD & Related Behaviors / by Aki4705
Last post
 August 6th, 2025
...See more . I guess this is more of a vent than it is anything else.  OCS was my first ever diagnosis aside of my many others and i must say that it’s the rollercoaster down to the depths h*ll that i never asked for yet one i keep waking up too every single miserable sunrise, these thoughts that plague me mine being the real f*cking kicker of it all, it has always been that way ever since i could remember.  Sometimes I can’t keep myself from having the most questionable fantasies from surfacing and it makes me feel like the most filthy d*generate to have ever been conceived.  I don’t want to think it yet, the gods know that i would never desire for something so depraved to happen yet no matter how hard i try to shut these thoughts out they just linger.  I could be at work, the library, or even hanging out with friends and my mind will suddenly place me in hypothetical scenarios where i find myself in dangerous situations, i don’t wish for this at least that is ehat i always tell myself yet before i know it i am fantasizing about getting m*lested or s**ually a*ssaulted by a stranger or a group of them even, i will imagine the agonizing pain of getting my body brutalized from every hole imaginable, i will imagine the dehumanizing, degrading words they would use as they wrap their hands around my throat and listen to my choked out pleas and screams, the crooked smiles and jeering laughter that emanate from them like a pack hyenas, the way they would use me and then leave me to die like the w*ore they made of me.  “I don’t want this.” I have said this very same sentence countless times now,  It has lost its meaning, i no longer know if it’s true because thinking these things makes feel both disgusted and aroused, and worst of all is that they don’t just stop at nameless faces, sometimes they would even target even the people i love and it drives me insane, i could be having a relatively good day and then there he is in yet another imaginary vile scene, my father forcing himself on me as he violates both the sanctity of family and my body or i could be having dinner with my closest friend and suddenly i imagining myself stabbing my fork into her eye in the name of experimental lobotomy or everyone else in between because this terrorist in my head is indiscriminate, it doesn’t care, it will conjure up anything, anywhere, for anyone it can take advantage of and use as material to torment me with.  These thoughts are so disturbing and they don’t just stop at s*xual depravity, it can be anything from violence others, self perpetuated death sentences, or otjer things to unholy to say. these thoughts know no boundaries when it comes to utilizing the things i fear or loathe the most against me.  It’s a long way to h*ll and each unwanted thought just feels like i am digging myself deeper and closer to its gates down from the depths. It’s a long way to h*ll yet it feels like i am already there, i wish this would stop yet the turbulence in my head is seemingly never ending. I just want it to stop.
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BPD and the instability it beings in the face of identity.
Personality Disorders Support / by Aki4705
Last post
 July 1st, 2025
...See more To love is to hate. The boundary between Love and hatred is thin and blurred, it’s seam but fickle and quite easy to cross, there cannot be one without the other close behind at least that’s how it feels to me. they always seem to bleed into a single grey space, they are states of being that echo back in one huge illogical mess and i can’t seem to tell the difference anymore and It makes feel fake although throughout the years that is all i seem see each time i look into the mirror, insincerity and meaninglessness, all capture in the form of a singular woman, yet despite it all a smile seems to be my saving grace for it makes for a rather pretty face. Genuine Attachment and bonds are perpetually under the threat of a certain jeopardy, nothing ever seems to last in this incoherent heart of mine for the dissonance is all consuming. There is always turbulence and noise, yet none of it ever makes sense although amongst the entropy theres always seems to be a sound that sometimes resurfaces and stands out from amongst the rest, a shrill yet distant cry that sings of resentful agony. She’s screaming, my inner child, she’s still alive, even if just barely hanging by a breath after all this time i had left her for dead yet all i hear is her faulty breathing, choking, screaming and heaving fade in and out from amongst the chaos of the white noise, she’s slipping through the sands of time, all while watching me watch her fade away into the static of the disconnect. Her fall from the comforting grace provided by naive innocence was one that shattered the entire world i knew with a new perspective, one that was the world in its truest form, one i was familiar with to an extent, i was just was not aware of the extent of its reach, bleak, dark, riddled with nothing but misery at every corner, The sun never dose rise in the endless grey. this entire time it was all just an endless march towards oblivion in a wasteland full of wolves and i just so happened to be born a lamb, a lamb whose fate was sealed by the very wolves who warped her mind, the predominant source of my suffering, its this brain of mine. Ober the course of time i have have come to slowly undo the threads of this wool that once veiled my eyes, one by one with every time i forced myself to look past the surface of my reality, for once there was meaning in the meaningless and the truth hurt more that anything those who were supposed to protect me and the world in it’s cruel glory ever did, i had been dancing with my greatest adversary this entire time i had spent philosophizing the enemy, i just failed to realize that she had been donning both my skin and my clothes. “You must wake now, you are suffocating,” I am suffocating yet i can’t find it in me to open my eyes, i don’t desire to wake. the silence has progressively become unbearably loud for once although that’s because silence has always had a way to be deafening for those who were not used to listening and for once i was hearing the world around me with clarity, yet there is one thing i fail to perceive through a lens of clarity that being just who is that woman that stares back at me each time i look through the reflection of the mirror before me. I see, you are… I see, you are… I see, you are?… You are?… Can you see me now?, can i see me now? Inconsistent and in-concise, the face behind my name has lost its meaning and the closer you get, the more i slip out of view and into the depths of the disconnect, and no matter how much i don’t desire to open my eyes there is ome thing i do crave with every moment that passes by… i yearn to go back, back to when there was meaning and the certainty of personhood behind these eyes of mine. Blame it on the bloodline? No, Blame it on the state of mind? Who knows? All i know is that I don’t know what i am, I can’t tell you who i am. My vision, it has failed me, the broken state of my identity has become obsolete. I hurt those i love with as i am to love, yet it’s all undermined in the end with the hate that my tongue and actions are quick to gift, it feels conditional, it feels performative even when i know it’s not because i am aware that that is how everyone else from the outside perceives it. I love them, i really do, i love them more than i could ever love myself, i know i do and i always will so why must i keep bending my metal backwards, trying to justify what these disgusting facets of mine unleash upon the ones i fear hurting the most. It makes me feel incredibly fake, but then again what is genuine when even the skin that clings onto my flesh sometimes feels foreign? “Is it really you?” I have always been me…honest, i just hope that you can still see me for me even when my worst become all the more difficult to keep crom bleeding into my image, i hope that you still know that i love you even when the words that leave my tongue and the look in my eyes says otherwise.
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BPD, gender/identity crises, and the existential dread that follows suit (a vent)
Personality Disorders Support / by Aki4705
Last post
 April 10th, 2025
...See more (I apologize in advance for the ramble, i just needed to get things off my chest also trigger warning just in case.) What is worse than having bpd, a disorder where utter insanity and instability reigns supreme? If you guessed being born a woman then you are unfortunately correct. Sometimes I’m afraid i won’t be able to handle what has truly been a cruel destiny, i’m afraid that i won’t be able to grapple against this derailment into utter insanity much longer for unfortunate is she that bears the burden of womanhood, the burden of being born “female”. It’s sickening, i hate it and with every day that passes i find myself able to breathe less and less within this suffocating reality of mine. Sometimes i can’t help but wish i was born a man instead. I yearn for liberation from this existential pain. I crave freedom from the unalloyed hatred and violence exerted upon me and my fellow women for merely existing. This uterus, it’s a curse. it’s a filthy, rotten, abhorrent curse that i carry within my body with these disgustingly useless breasts that hang of my chest to add onto my perpetual despair. I loathe them, i loathe it all with every fiber of my being. i despise how the world perceives me because of them, to perceived as a mere brood b*tch, a ho, s*xual currency, a second class life form, an object to exploit and conquer, i despise being labeled and see as anything but what i am, human. Humanity stands atop my chest, constricting my very breath with each step taken to insure that the flames of my *** rise further in temperature to burn me alive. I want to rip it out, i desire to tear the flesh and tear out this revolting organ i call my uterus, i yearn to tear it out, to rip it into shreds, stomp on it, burn it, char it until nothing is left, until nothing to remind of its vile existence is left. *** it and everything it ever stood for, it can kiss my derrière and rot in the utter depths of h*ll. the curse of reproduction and womanhood are the bane of my existence, an agonizing detriment to my reality, to my identity and i absolutely hate it, I detest bearing this grotesque organ that strips me of my humanity in the eyes of mankind, i am anything but human to them all my sole worth derives from what my body can offer rather than what i am in truth, a human, a living being just. Like. Them. I refuse to bend to the whims of the misogynistic swine that crowd this earth and the ignorant doormats that lick their boots. “You only become a true woman in motherhood.” Shut the *** up. “Your only purpose is to provide for your husband.”, “men won’t like you if  you dress like that.”, “men this”, “men that.” Oh, for the love of god, shut the h*ll up because i could give less of a sh*t. “You are so mature for your age”, “how old are you?” “Why don’t you come with me?” “You such are a pretty little thing”, “want a drink?” Shut the *** up, Shut the *** up, shut the *** up because i would rather aggressively *** my ear canals with a bread knife than to hear another come out of their filthy mouths. Femoid”, “holes” “wh*re”, “sl*t”, “Females only exist to serve men”, “women are nothing without a man.” “Women are to honor their husbands” SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT THE *** UP, SHUT  THE *** UP. SHUT. THE. ***. UP. No matter where i go whether it’s in the real world, the internet, or down into the depths of oblivion it’s all the same. We are nothing. I am anything but human. Just a tool for s*xual gratification and an incubator for up-keeping population in the eyes of man. Pregnancy, an evidently miserable experience where innocent parasites are what is expected for expect me and every other women to bear, innocent life forms that are biologically engineered to leech off us and for the cherry on top of it all even when just a clump of cells they hold more worth than me and every woman already living can only dream of having yet they are innocent and don’t deserve harm, i don’t wish them harm, i only wish them love from those who do care but in the end regardless of how callous it sounds i don’t give a sh*t about them. I refuse to have one and i will not hesitate to take my own life if this *** *** country i was born in and it’s utterly corrupt government decides to attempt total subjugation on us women, again. the world is dust and so am i, i came from nothing and to nothing i will gladly return to if needed because if i have learned anything in my short time treading this bleak *** fest of an earth is that happiness and freedom was never an option for anyone who is not the privileged white man, this world was never made with us women and everyone else that belongs in a marginalized group. I am already suffering enough with the disgusting disease that is bpd and with my identity. The last thing I needed was this biological curse but alas, this most likely won’t be last of what i will have to endure. Born and raised by an off white pill i have come to notice that i tend to no longer feel nor fear the more i fall into this abysmal hole where nothing is true and nothing real. I resent my birth and will continue to rue it till my final breath.
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BPD: Endless threads of introspection and perpetual mending.
Personality Disorders Support / by Aki4705
Last post
 April 10th, 2025
...See more Ever since i was officially diagnosed with bpd by a licensed professional not long ago many aspects of my life and countless events have begun to make sense. If i had to describe my experience with bpd i would say that in terms of analogies it’s akin to patchwork, the seams of the “fabric of stability” keep these turbulent and volatile emotions veiled and at bay yet they are ever-threaten to cave and snap under the pressure and tension they inflict. Strings snap and the worn material tears, if you are not careful the will eventually become wide enough for these emotions to slip past their bounds and rear their heads for the world to see therefore i must always look out for them and sew them shut upon noticing them. it becomes constant pattern of tearing and sewing for even when i believe i you repaired all the gaps there is always a new one already forming upon every encounter with something I perceive to be a potential threat whether it be someone’s tone, utilization of certain words, the way they address me/a situation, or essentially whenever i sense that someone has wronged me in any manner or is attempting to harm me in any ways. It seems as if everything always seems to find a way to cut deep and these never ending threats of unravel keep me on edge at all times, there is no rest for i must always keep myself in check no matter how insufferable and agonizing these emotions may become i cannot risk them slipping past my grasp when i’m around people or those i love but unfortunately no matter how much control i seem to have over them, i can only leash them for so long before they eventually become strong enough to release themselves from my hold and before i know it scathing remarks, tirades speaking of loathing and animosity or uncontrollable sobbing, suffocating despair, and all else in between fluctuate wildly when they roam free and in the end i end up hurt someone or those i love. Countless Mistakes are made and meaningless words are exchanged in these moments and once all is said, all is done they weigh on me heavily, guilt eats away at my conscience like a cannibal and apologies are quick to leave my tongue but despite my words expressing genuine remorse they feel like glass shards scraping against my throat because they sound false, they are true yet i am also aware that it’s only a matter of time before it all ultimately just happens again. A viscous cycle of regret and re-commitment of actions. My words of promised change never fail to feel insincere even when i know that i am trying my best to behave just like your average person and keep myself restrained, i yearn to improve but much to my dismay my efforts are always undermined and overshadowed by the negative. I unravel time and time again only to then sew myself back into one piece yet these tears never cease creating and by consequence my needle and thread never ceases its mending. Rest is rare when this fermenting lump of decaying sentiments and unpredictable emotions are always on the prowl for an opening within this fabric of stability that lines the confines of my being and i fight until my restless mind eventually places itself into a comatose state of disconnection, overwhelmed and distressed it seeks respite within the static of the gray, the endless gray where these agonizing feelings and thoughts align into one only to then fade into oblivion thus, when concealed within a cocoon of white noise where all that is human ceases to exist i become one with the hum of the static and rest is at last granted but that is no way of living, i somehow always find myself holding onto hate and negativity too shallow for anyone when i feel threatened or neglected, its a curse and this hollowness although calming simply leaves me in a state disorient. I feel fake, it makes me feel as if everything i have ever felt has never been genuine and in turn this rift between myself and those present in my life just seems becomes deeper and wider no matter how much i try to reach out and get closer, i attempt to get close yet the more i move forward the more distant they seem to become, this wretched facet i bear and oscillate between drives them away. I am at a standstill within the cusp of love and hatred, Jubilation and despair, there is no middle ground in this spectrum, only the turbulent duality of their furthermost extremes. I perceive the world around me through a bleak lens of pessimistic nihilism and sometimes i no longer know what keeps me going, i have very few loved ones left and it’s all my fault even if i never meant for it to be this way. i can’t seem to pull through no matter how hard i try but alas, life keeps going and perhaps one day i can achieve normalcy and stability for the sake of those that somehow still find it in them to love me but until then i will simply hope for the best and just keep sewing myself up as many more times necessary in my time left in this world.
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