Terrible ocd.

Here is my full, artless input on this matter. Dealing with OCD is by far one of the most difficult struggles some people may face within their lives. It's a battle never to win but to always contain yourself. It's pain, man.. its a life of pain.. and that's not to sound histrionic in any way, since it truly is a painful life. A displeasing quality of such is that it may impair your ability to "see" progress, even though it *should* be there; I am constantly thinking about the past, and my indulgences in both libidinous content and in acts, both of which should not be spoken because of how horrific they came to be. I fostered images in my mind ever since I was hooked onto something, and it blighted both my physical and mental health so much so that, even after a good few months without porn, I am still paying for past mistakes, which repeatedly come within the frame of my mind when I'm trying to preoccupy myself with another activity. No one will understand how fucked up the mind gets. Not my parents, nor anyone I know. The more I stay alive, the more unstable I get. Sometime in the near future, I will leave everything behind, forsake my dreams, and find a rope in hopes of a better life next time around. Or perhaps it may not even go that far... maybe in a less lugubrious future things will turn out to be alright... but right now, I am not progressing fast enough. I am behind on my work. I am being overwhelmed by my existential state. I hold a great resentment for the conventions of society, how it pushes and confines us; I just want to practice my art in peace, amass decent skill and make applications. But even my practice is oftentimes marred by extreme thoughts, thoughts of the past, things of the past that never resurfaced until I actually sat down and tried to focus on something in particular. At times, I manage to isolate my view and disregard what's in the periphery. Most times, I only manage to do so for a slight, ephemeral few seconds, and then another thought finds me in a restless state. I, unfortunately, am the type to go on whimsy, imaginative tangents - when I am learning a separate subject, I am only learning distraitly, with a side introspection on "what may happen if I were to show up in a room full of intellectuals and discuss this material?" or, perhaps more fittingly, "how may this compare with society's standards of education, what if I were to show up to school and discuss this with my peer, and what if the pupils around the room listened and what would they say?" Sometimes, I play personages in these reveries of mine - they range from brandish and self-righteous to collected and open-minded. It gets even more shameless more times than not; perhaps this is where the lack of progress stems. I hope I am at least regaling someone by expressing my problems like this... anyhow this penchant towards endlessly obsessing upon memories, retouching them as to fit my helpless state of mind... it's all the same shit. Every. Single. Day. I just want it gone, ya know? Just want to think less, do more; talk less, write more; question less, code more... but it seems as though I can't. There's just something holding me back that warrants all of this querulous complaining and grudging and suffering and moaning and slamming and stubbing and wondering and thinking and typing and castigating and pompously writing and... you know, everything else. It's strange. All of my other posts, I have chosen not to use even the slightest bit of argot. Here, well... I guess I am having a bad night, or a bad life. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH