#instrusive thoughts tw

[creaturetap]

the bad advice cat: a running joke in my current sketchbook

[image description: six images of a cartoon cat labelled as "bad advice cat". it is striped and in all images has its mouth open in a cheerful smile.

first image: drawn in pen. the cat is sitting and holds a paw out. it says "when faced with minor inconvenience, kill yourself!"

second image: drawn in pen. the cat is standing with a paw out. it says "Do Drugs".

third image: drawn in pen, partially on a bright yellow post it note. cat is sitting with a paw to its chest. it says "cut down on time spent on hobbies - prioritise profit over fun"

fourth image: drawn in pen. the cat is sat next to an easel with a scribbly painting on it. the cat holds a brush in one paw. it says "if you don't like your art, give up!"

fifth image: drawn in pencil. the cat is sat with one paw to its chest and eyes shut. it says "cringe culture is real and good"

sixth image: drawn in pen. the cat is sat holding a plastic container with food in it that has stink lines coming off it. the cat says "don't worry about the expiry date. it's probably still fine to eat."

end description.]

[library-goblin]

There's a demon in my head. Tumble staircase, asylum-mad. Knife to wrists to throats to shouts, the demon, it is coming out. Intrude, intruder, who am I? That voice? Am I a standerby? There's a demon, in my head? Or is the demon I?

[mercutiodidntdieforthis]

Personally I think my intrusive thoughts should acknowledge all the work I put into making this meal and shut the fuck up about it

[mafiatsunafish]

Why do the scene of my head being crushed by a car tire in a accident just popped my head 😭🫠????

Help??????

I have intrusive thoughts but this has to be one of the worst and weirdest😭😭😭???

[youling-the-ghost]

Hello, sfth fandom! I've noticed that there's been a surge of sfth fanfiction lately, so here's a friendly guide to tagging on ao3.

(quick note: none of these are de facto rules as much as they are advice from someone who's been using ao3 for years; you don't have to follow these tips at all, they're just to help new ao3 users navigate the tagging system)

Rating

There are 5 different ratings that your fic can have: Not Rated, General Audiences, Teen and Up, Mature, and Explicit. The rating tag tells the readers what level of mature content is in the fic.

Not Rated

It's best to avoid this as it tells nothing about how much mature content is in the fic. If you tag your fic as Not Rated, it's probably best to go a little more in-depth in your additional tags or fic summary to prevent accidentally triggering people.

General Audiences

This rating is for fics that basically have no mature content whatsoever. Essentially, it means that the fic is suitable for anyone of any age. A rule of thumb that I use is to imagine a 10-year-old reading your work. If the thought of that makes you uncomfortable, then General Audiences is probably not the best rating for your fic.

Teen and Up

This rating is for fics that contain content that may not be suitable for readers younger than 13. This can involve swearing, discussion of mature topics (sex, mental health, etc.), or mild violence.

If you don't feel comfortable with children reading your fic, but your fic doesn't have any explicit content, then Teen and Up is probably the best rating for it.

Mature

This rating is for fics that contain adult themes, such as sex or violence. Usually, fics with this rating have heavy themes but aren't very explicit about it. A sfth-specific example would be Inside the Mysterious Cube, as it has violent themes but doesn't have any crazy brutality or gore.

Explicit

This rating is for fics that contain heavy adult themes, including explicit sex and graphic violence. Generally speaking, most (if not all) smutfics should be tagged as Explicit.

Warning(s)

Warnings are used to warn (surprise surprise) the reader for any potentially triggering content. It's good fanfiction etiquette to always tag warnings, even if you're concerned about spoilers. If you're especially worried about spoilers, you can tag your fic as Choose Not To Use Warnings and add a TW in the notes for chapters that include triggering content.

The warnings are pretty straightforward for the most part, except for one thing.

Choose Not To Use Warnings vs No Warnings Apply

This is something that can be very confusing for new ao3 users (and even some old users). It essentially boils down to this: No Warnings Apply means that none of the warnings that ao3 provides are in your fic, while Choose Not To Use Warnings means that you don't want to explicitly tag any of the warning, either to avoid spoilers or because you're unsure about which warnings you should tag.

I personally use Choose Not To Use Warnings when my fic deals with heavy topics non-explicitly. For example, I have written a fic before that involved heavy instrusive thoughts and similar mental health issues, which I thought could trigger unwanted thoughts for the reader, so I tagged it as Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings.

Fandoms

(quick note: "common tag refers to tags that have been wrangled by an ao3 tag wrangler (you don't need to know what that is) and can be used to filter works)

This is the thing that seems to confuse most sfth fanfiction writers. The "Shoot from the Hip - fandom" tag redirects to British Comedy RPF, which is pretty common for niche RPF fandoms.

What I personally do is tag the fandom as Shoot from the Hip, along with any longforms if they apply, which should have their own common tags.

If you're writing a fic for a longform that doesn't have a common tag yet, you should format your tag like this:

[longform name] - Shoot from the Hip Improvised Sketch (e.g. The Unrelenting Aubergine - Shoot from the Hip Improvised Sketch)

I would advise for you to tag both the longform(s) and Shoot from the Hip - fandom. As an example, this is how I tagged my Unrelenting Aubergine and Wild, Wet & Worrisome fics:

(the order of the tags doesn't really matter here)

Relationships & Characters

Okay, this is probably the weirdest thing to tag for the sfth fandom since there are pretty much no common tags for these. For the characters/relationships that have no common tags (which is pretty much all of them), it's best to format the tag like this:

[character/relationship] ([longform where it originates from) (e.g. Derek (The Unrelenting Aubergine), Bubba/Jeremiah (Inside the Mysterious Cube))

The other way to go about it is to use the most common tag. For example, I tagged my Ditch fic as Derek/Titch without the (The Unrelenting Aubergine) since most of the fics were tagged as such.

Just for reference, here are the boys' common character tags for the RPF writers:

Additional Tags

Here is where you can go wild with the tags. These tags are used to give the reader a brief idea of what the fic is about, and you can feel free to add as many or as few tags as you wish. However, it is good etiquette to not add too many tags, so make sure that just the essentials are covered. For example, if your fic features a chair, there's no need to put "Chair" in your tags.

Tags You Should Probably Include

Now, these are all my personal opinion, but I feel like these tags are almost essential for any fic so that the reader can get a quick idea of what mood/genre the fic is going to be:

Fluff - cute and non-sexual things happen (cuddling, kissing, general affection, love confessions, etc.), isn't exclusive to romantic situations.

Angst - sad things happen (breaking up, crying, self-esteem issues, etc.).

Hurt/comfort - one character is physically and/or emotionally hurt, and another character helps them. There's a separate Emotional Hurt/Comfort tag for the character going through emotional struggles.

Anything sexual - do any sexual things happen in your fic? If yes, then you should probably tag it. If the sexual content is only implied (e.g. two characters waking up in the same bed naked), there's an Implied Sexual Content tag for that.

Any heavy content - things like abuse and violence should be tagged, even if you already have a warning for it. This is just to prevent anyone from reading something that might be triggering for them.

Other than that, add as many tags as you need to describe your fic.

A PSA About RPF

Finally, since this is a fandom that involves real people, here's a quick PSA for RPF writers and readers alike:

Please do not share any RPF fics with the boys. This goes for any work, explicit or not.

Also, please respect RPF writers. You may not feel comfortable with RPF, and that's totally fine! Just please don't harass RPF writers just because you believe that RPF is wrong. If there's a fic that you're uncomfortable with, just don't read it and please don't go leaving hate comments on that fic.

I know that this fandom is full of lovely people, but I feel the need to get this out of the way as it's an issue that many RPF fandoms have to deal with.

I really hope this helps!! :]

[sporadically-erratic]

Seven

(original creepypasta origin created by sporadically-erratic)

TW : Depictions of gore, blood, and suicide

I woke up from another seemingly-endless nightmare—it was becoming a regular occurrence now; I had been restlessly sleeping every night for the past few years of my life, and it never seemed to stop. It was still dark out, and the town was quiet (mind the crickets and cicadas); it was late.

The nightmares were always the same.

It would always begin in a cabin in the middle of the woods. The cabin was relatively normal in itself; it was made of pine cypress and smelled of linen. It was a comfortable home—more comfortable than my actual home—and it always felt like a sacred haven for me.

The only strange aspect of the cabin was some of its decoration. Multiple number sevens were discreetly planted around each room. I never understood why that was, and it always drove me insane. I tried everything in my power to figure out that anomaly, yet I came to no avail.

The nightmares would always end in bloodshed. Every moment always felt real in these restless dreams, and I always woke up with a vivid memory of them. I had never actually been a necessarily violent person, yet in my dreams, I became someone entirely different. It scared me, at first, to see myself ending human lives. Now it is routine to watch and endure; it took awhile at first to become desensitized, but now even the worst gore won't effect me. Sometimes I even enjoy it.

In these dreams, I would invite seven innocent people to the cabin. To spare details, I would always end up brutally killing all seven of them.

Seven...

There it was again.

I knew there had to be a reason.

I wasn't crazy. I know I wasn't crazy. I know I wasn't crazy, but I knew I was something. I knew there was significance in the number seven, yet I could not prove it. I knew there was a meaning or prophecy behind it that I could not figure out.

For eternity, I had been trying to decipher the code behind the number seven, but nothing ever seemed to make sense and it wasn't like I could have asked around for an answer either. I became more distant from others because of my extreme interest in figuring out this phenomena and my growing fascination with gore. Maybe I just wanted to believe my life was more extraordinary than it was.

When I awoke that night, something in me changed. I felt that I had known what I was supposed to do this entire time, yet I continued to ignore it because I didn't want it to be true. I was a good kid; I had good grades, good behaviour, good articulation—I was the ideal son. This feeling that was growing inside of me—it wasn't me. Maybe the constant reoccuring dreams I'd been having for three consecutive years had finally been catching up to me.

First, I had noticed the quick glimpses of sevens I would see outside of dreams after about six months of having those nightmares. I had begun to tap my foot and fingers in intervals of seven after seven months, and after about a year, I had started obsessively writing the sacred number on almost anything I could.

New violent, aggressive thoughts and ideas whirred in my head, begging me to succumb to insanity as I laid in the bed I dreamt in every night. I was lost, and I didn't know how to prevent or bring an end to the erratic instrusive thoughts. I tried to ignore them the best I could and fall back asleep. After trying and trying and trying, my bedroom window started to lighten. I had stayed up all night fighting my own thoughts.

I looked over to my digital alarm clock on my beside table.

7:07 A.M.

Ironic. This had to be some sort of joke or something.

I jumped as I heard a strong fist bang on my bedroom door—it was my father. I had forgotten that I had archery practice today.

"Hyun-Woo! It is time to wake up! 좋은 아침이에요!" My father had yelled from the other side of the door. His voice was booming and loud—it only made me dislike him even more than I already did.

My father, Seung Lee, had always been a stuck-up prick. He grew up in an overachieving family and always expected me to do the same, hence the archery practice. Although, it isn't the worst—the archery practice, I mean. It is actually one of the stupid things I have to do every other day that I fairly enjoy.

I sprung out of bed and dressed myself in straight-fitted black jeans and my favorite black ripped denim vest. I grabbed my knife belt and my silver keris, attaching the sheathed weapon to my belt before slipping on socks and my black combat boots. I tied my hair up in a quick, simple ponytail and left my bedroom. As I walked outside to the shooting range, I spotted my father standing near the targets with his arms crossed. He didn't look happy, but when did he ever?

My father was a tall, and fairly handsome, strong man. He was a stubborn man who presented himself as unempathetic and unapologetic to everyone around him. He was not always like this. Before mother died ten years ago—when I was seven—my father was a sweet, charming man. He had always been an overachiever and always had excelling academic intelligence, physical fitness, and socialization skills. He was the perfect man and of course everyone loved him. When he started dating my mother, he was content with being with her. He was loyal, honest—all of the things that he defies now. Through several acts of adultery, he harmed my mother's trust and pride in him. My mother, Dae Lee, was a charismatic and loving mother before she found out about her husband's infidelity. She became depressed and barely talked anymore. She stopped taking care of me, so I had to learn how to take care of myself because my father was too busy screwing around with whores behind my mother's back. She started heavily drinking and wouldn't even get out of bed some days; she stopped taking her medication. It was horrifying to witness my mother after she finally stopped taking her pills. She started drawing on the walls and talking to herself and crying over the smallest things. She always had to "re-do" her movements, claiming that it "just didn't feel right." She started to look and act utterly insane. My father prevented me from seeing her at some point because of how awful she had been behaving. Eventually, while my father was at work, my mother had committed suicide by taking as many pills as she could find in every cabinet as I was outside practicing my archery skills. I was the one who found her.

Today is the anniversary—July 7, 2007—exactly ten years after she died in 1997.

I had never stopped feeling guilty for my own mother's death since that day. Though, my father never once took responsibility for the depression and insanity that lead to her suicide. Instead, he became a brute and an even worse father. He started "training" me to be better than I was, and it seemed like it never was enough to satisfy him. I lived by a motto of "be the best or be nothing at all;" it was awful. I never had any fun, nor did I really have any friends. I was sort of an outcast because my father had always expressed to me that it was a waste of emotion and time to actually connect with someone in a way that a friend would. In contradiction, my father would always remind me to find a beautiful, obedient woman to marry and reproduce with. I never knew what he wanted from me.

I hated seeing him; everytime he was in my sight, I would feel intense and overwhelming anger. He drove me almost as crazy as the number seven did. I had to live alone with the bastard for ten years at that point. He was always more intense when the anniversary came by. He was more of a prick too.

"What took you so long, Hyun-Woo? You were supposed to be out here ten minutes ago. We need to work on your punctuality," he spoke in a frustrated tone.

My father paused for a moment, giving me time to make a response if I wanted to. Though, if I spoke, I would always regret it later. He did not like when I talked too much, so I decided to stay silent.

He commanded, "Get yourself set up. I don't have time to wait for you today."

I hurried over to grab my bow and a quiver with a sheath of arrows from the ascham. I tuned the arrow to its correct position and drew it to my anchor point, nocking the fletching onto the bowstring. I aimed for the nearest target from the range and released. The arrow flew with a strong cast, disappointingly hitting the petticoat of the target face. I didn't even want to look my father in the face after that shot.

He was certainly livid. The moment the arrow hit, he started to yell and berate me. It happened so quick; it seemed like he had been waiting for me to do something wrong so he could yell at me

Though, after a moment, I did not understand what he was saying to me. I could not hear him over the sound of other voices whispering in my ears. They were taunting me, just as my father. This angered me in a way I could not comprehend by myself. It felt uncontrollable, like a flame burning inside of my body. I was heated, and I could not find a way to cool down—not now, at least. Not on my mother's death anniversary and not in this humiliation. I lost control of my thoughts and my actions. I could not control my movements—I could not even think straight.

Before I knew what I was doing, I drew an arrow and shot my father directly through his eye and into his skull.

I blacked out. When I came to, I awoke in the forest with a shovel in hand. I still wore my special bow and the quiver of arrows and the keris was still sheathed in my pocket. I had no idea where I was or how to get home. I didn't even know if I *wanted* to go home. At least, I did not try to navigate my way back. I dropped the shovel and drew my bow and arrow at the sound of hikers approaching. I did not know what I was thinking. My regular thoughts became scattered and distant, being replaced with new violent instincts. Voices urged me to harm the innocent, to fulfill the prophecy. I finally knew exactly what I had to do—it was obvious all along, yet I chose to ignore all of the blatant arrows pointing in this direction. I was chosen to do it—only *I* could do it.

I finally knew the truth.

I quickly hid behind a tree before the hikers arrived. They spoke of topics useless to me; they seemed to be average people. There were six of them in a group, three women and three men. It was perfect; it was convenient. I held my bow in hand as I drew an arrow. I followed them as they walked their trail, keeping my distance and stealth. They stopped to take a break from their hike, still in the middle of nowhere. This gave me time to climb up to a higher place, somewhere convenient for my aim.

It all started when I shot one of the men right in the back of his head. The black eagle arrow impaled right through his skull, killing him almost instantly. There was screaming and there was crying, and I enjoyed every second of it. A wicked smile grew on my face as I drew another arrow back up to my anchor point. Those idiots stayed right in place as they surrounded their late friend, screaming for help. I noticed the way they looked around to figure out where the arrow came from, but I suppose they did not look up high or far enough. I aimed and fired another arrow that managed to impale one of the women in her back. The arrow was directed downwards near her right side. The arrow penetrated deep into her skin amd would most likely leave her to bleed out and die if not treated fast enough. Now there was even more of a commotion. I could tell they were confused and they had no idea where to go or what to do. Before jumping down from the tree, I aimed another arrow at one of the other male hikers. I released it and it implanted itself into his calf. As the others were distracted by the third arrow, I pulled my bow over my shoulder and wore it, making it easier to run. As I ran towards the group, I pulled my keris from its sheath and tackled the nearest person—one of the women. I stabbed her in ear, piercing her skull and killing her. Of course, the others tried to run, but they were no match for me. I pulled out my bow and another arrow, aiming precisely at the running man. I shot him through the back, impaling him through his heart. It killed him almost immediately. There was only one woman standing. Eventually, the unnamed woman could no longer run from me; she stopped to catch her breath. In the few seconds she was still, I walked up behind her quietly. In one quick motion, I grabbed the woman with one hand over her mouth and stabbed her in the neck with the bloody keris. As I released my grip and pulled the knife out of her throat, she fell onto the leaf-covered ground in a pool of blood.

I finally felt complete. I could finally hear my mother. She spoke to me solemnly; she congratulated me for my sacrifices. She was proud. I asked if I could join her. Mother said it was not my time.

I was not finished. The prophecy was fulfilled, but my mother wanted more. So I caved over and over and over again for her, sacrificing seven lives every seven days. She was never satisfied.

I have never felt closer to my mother.

I love my mother.

[kurulover]

I have similar fears; I'm a singlet, but my intrusive thoughts include violence and cannibalistic urges that I worry about acting on. Just wanting to chime in to say that I get you

I’m not worried because it’s intrusive thoughts, I fully understand those and how to deal with them. The important piece of them is that.... you are worrying about something that intensely because you don’t want to do it. It’s often a form of moral obsession - I could do this I will do this imagine if I did this. And letting them go take a lot of practice but I’ve learned that (also has OCD).

What’s so nerve wracking to me is the genuine nature of the desire and the lengths taken to try and maybe work it out long term - his persistence is uh horrifying. It’s not an intrusive thought so much as a life goal? A conscious drive. But I have the number for a couple wards tucked away in a place hard to find so I have some back up!

[gay-otlc]

Oneat Cperson Disorder

Obviously everyone with OCD is super neat. They probably have great handwriting and a perfectly organized room, and they’re qUiRkY because they don’t like asymmetrical things, all that shit. That’s what OCD stands for! Oneat Cperson Disorder!

Wait... OCD isn’t Neat Person Disorder?

Then what is it?

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. That’s the real acronym. It’s not Neat Person Disorder, it’s not a synonym for organized. It’s a shitty disorder characterized by obsessions and compulsions. A major symptom is intrusive thoughts.

This is what OCD actually is.

(Warning: Unneccessarily long. You have been warned.)

Intrusive thoughts

Almost everyone gets intrusive thoughts. That’s not an OCD specific thing. 

The way my therapist explained it was that the brain is like an email inbox, and thoughts are like emails. Some thoughts are marked as important, such as things like I need a drink of water. This is important to survivial and should be prioritized. Some thoughts just go in the general inbox, like That person over there is tall. It might be relevant to whatever’s going on at the moment, but is generally not that important. Some thoughts are spam, like I should hurt someone I care about. It’s not born out of any desire, it’s just random, and it’s completely unimportant.

A non-OCD person would mark the spam emails as spam. An OCD person would mark them as important.

And the type of spam emails that gets marked as important goes with the subtype of OCD. So, someone with harm OCD (me, it’s me, hi) could get the thought Overdose on these painkillers. Someone with contamination OCD could get the thought I touched this surface and now my hand is covered in germs.

Conclusion: Intrusive thoughts would be fine if my fucking spam filter worked. Stupid brain. 

Obsessions

After marking the intrusive thought as important, the brain will consider it to be... well... important. It isn’t, but hey, the brain doesn’t know that. It just knows that it was marked as important, so it should definitely think about this email.

And think about the email.

And think about the email.

And be literally unable to stop thinking about the email.

And become completely and utterly obsessed with the email until it matters more than a lot of the actually important thoughts.

Thanks a lot, brain. 

This is the obsession!

Since the brain only marked an intrusive thought as important because it was distressing, thinking about the intrusive thought will obviously cause more distress. OCD is an anxiety disorder, and the obsessions make you... take a wild guess... anxious!

An obsession will spiral until it creates a worst case scenario, usually taking place in a “what if” form.

So after I get the thought about overdosing, the next thing I think will be Oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck, what if I overdose on these painkillers? I don’t want to, but I’m worried I’ll lose control and impulsively do it. This is hilarious, because I am an extremely not-impulsive person, but the OCD brain thinks in absolutes.

It wants solid, 100% confirmation that I will not commit suicide. And no matter how unlikely it seems that I will, having 100% certainty that I won’t is impossible. And my OCD brain apparently doesn’t understand probability and thinks that P(not overdosing) =/= 100% means P(overdosing) is extremely likely.

This might also be accompanied by fun other distrubing thoughts that explore this worst case scenario in more detail, such as my family finding my dead body, my friends being told I’m dead, people attending my funeral, etc.

A person who thought I touched this contaminated surface might go on to think Oh no, what if I now have this disease and get sick and die? That might be accompanied by going to the hospital, having surgeries and shit, also the funeral, etc.

The “what if” question is very distressing, And because it’s an obsession, you can’t stop thinking about it.

Conclusion: My brain should be able to stop thinking about things. Stupid brain.

Compulsions.

That obsession from before was fuckin’ scary, right? It’s all worst case scenario shit. We don’t want that happening. 

So, what do we do?

Prevent it from happening! Seems logical, right?

Except. Except this is absolutely, 100% the wrong thing to do. It perpetuates the idea that intrusive thoughts are Big Scary ™ and creates a vicious cycle until preventing the worst case scenario from happening completely consumes our lives. 

Compulsion is any sort of preventative measure.

When I have thoughts like overdose on these painkillers, there are a lot of things I really shouldn’t do except always do. I could list reasons to live (The problem with this is that I don’t want to die, and treating it like I do adds on to the idea that this is a genuine risk. People who are suicidal for real absolutely should think about reasons to live.) I could google “signs of suicidal people” until I’m confident that I don’t fit enough of those signs. I could completely avoid painkillers at all whatsoever until I’m in too much pain to do schoolwork I really need to do and then upon trying to take a painkiller I have a panic attack I mean haha what that definitely wouldn’t ever happen-

If someone has the thought I touched this contaminated surface and is now worried about getting sick and dying, what could they do? They could wash their hands, which is a big one associated with OCD. They could check symptoms of whatever disease they’re worried about until they’re sure they don’t have it. If a fever is something they’re worried about, they could check their temperature and then check it again because they don’t believe the first non-feverish number I mean haha I’ve never done this one either really what is it with these examples? So random, definitely not based in real life...

Ahem.

All of these measures are taken to prevent something that there isn’t a risk of, are make me more scared of something I don’t actually have to be scared of, and make me more reliant on these habits to the point where it interferes with my functioning; for example, if I’m scared of painkillers now, I’ll be in more pain and that will make it harder to do things. 

Conclusion: Just because compulsions give me immediate relief from anxiety, doesn’t mean they aren’t bad in the long run, and doing them is also bad. Stupid brain.

Ending Statements And Stuff:

So, can people with OCD be neat? Well, I’m convinced neat people are a myth, but I guess they can be. But can people with OCD also be disorganized? Fuck yeah, I’m here, aren’t I?

OCD stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It is not Oneat Cperson Disorder, and please do not treat it as such. That can be harmful to disorganized people with OCD like me, who think “I can’t possibly be OCD! My room is a mess!” and then just... not get help for so long. 

It’s also just... like... wrong? It’s factually incorrect to say OCD is a synonym for neat and that alone should be a good enough reason for you to not say it. 

Don’t say things like “I’m so OCD!” because you don’t like it when something is crooked or any thoughts I have about harming you will be completely intentional.

Also, I think we can conclude that Shai’s brain is fucking stupid.

[sclfmastery]

     “I’m having this terrible intrusive thought about taking a big old can opener, and BRRRRRRP, sawing a Dalek right open, and just, sinking my teeth into the squid’s uglier cousin, and eating it.”  

     “What d’you think, wanna coom with?  Maybe get a bit of intergalactic surf n’ turf in the old gut?  Just add salt, hehHAH.” 

[meteorito618]

When Scanlan asked “who’s the sixth barrel for?”, my mind went like “oh maybe himself?” and then I felt horrible for thinking that but now I see this on twitter???

[hypersexualityfeels]

tfw youre a cocsa survivor who gets intrusive thoughts about your abuser, and youre praying it stops before you turn 18

[demialien]

If you purposefully trigger someone's disorder for any or no reason, fuck you.

[iamagodjkimcatholicicantsaythat]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but you matter, you are loved, and you can make things better eventually

Love,

Someone who got the will to live back despite struggles with intrusive thoughts of death

[alilaro]

sorry about the previous post. im okay now. being on my period makes my suicidal tendencies go fucking crazy and my depression gets really really dark. i just have to try remember its temporary.

sorry again. and thanks to anyone that reached out. 🌻

[crying-in-the-cloudsxx]

My brain: hey stop thinking about that trigger stop making yourself feel icky you need to sleep

Also my brain: OOOOOH so you want that to repeat on your head for 20 minutes but worse :) I’m on it

Me: thanks for trying :,)

[myriad--starlings]

me: okay now can we go to sleep? are you okay now?

my brain: