u/Previous_Bell654

Yeah, maybe if you’re in college, your parents support you, and your biggest responsibility is passing exams, going out, and having fun. Then sure, maybe it feels magical. But if you start working young, this period is absolute hell sometimes. You don’t know anything yet. You’re constantly running around, making mistakes, getting corrected, trying to survive while pretending you understand what’s going on. Your brain feels like it’s being beaten into shape every single day. For people who study first, this phase comes later. But for people who start working early, these years are spent struggling, learning everything from scratch, and forcing yourself to become competent while everyone else seems to be out enjoying life. When I’m older, I will NOT miss this period. I won’t miss being confused all the time, not knowing what I’m doing, and desperately trying to learn things. And yes, sometimes it annoys me seeing people my age just casually enjoying life while I’m sitting here trying to build something and figure everything out. I’m not complaining about my opportunities. I know starting early is valuable, and in many ways it’s a privilege. I’m just saying please stop romanticizing one specific age as “the best period of life” for everyone. Because for a lot of people, it’s just the era of being lost, overworked, and trying to survive long enough to finally know what they’re doing.

About a month ago, something really terrifying happened to me. I was sleeping in my room while my younger brother slept in the other room. That night I could barely sleep at all I kept waking up every half hour, looking around to check if it was still night, then trying to fall asleep again. At one point, I opened my eyes again and realized someone was standing over me. At first I thought it was my mom, but then I looked properly and realized it wasn’t even human. Long dirty blonde hair, a long pale/green/golden? robe, and a face that looked blurred, like it existed and didn’t exist at the same time. Then it asked me, in a completely serious voice “Do you feel like someone is always watching you?” And the worst part is that I actually do have that paranoia. So I just answered, “Yes.” After that, it leaned down, kissed my forehead and the moment it did that, i woke up. I still don’t know if it was a dream, sleep paralysis, or something else entirely. But around ten minutes later, my younger brother suddenly started screaming. I ran to him, and he told me he had seen a nightmare that something was watching him, but not speaking at all. That’s the part that scared me the most that we both experienced something horrifying on the same night. And one more strange detail: earlier that day, I had hidden my Archangel Gabriel icon under the bed because a Muslim cleaning lady was supposed to come over, and afterward my brain immediately went: “What if that was Gabriel and he got angry at me?” Or maybe I’m just developing religious psychosis.

I genuinely hate my art style sometimes. The problem is… people KNOW me for it now, and my account actually does pretty well because of that exact style. I want to experiment so badly and find something new, but every time I try, it just doesn’t feel right yet. My current style is very recognizable super clean lines, flat colors, sharp shapes, everything looks very “controlled.” And part of me actually likes that. But at the same time I don’t. I can’t even explain what exactly bothers me about it. It just feels too… much. Too polished? Too stiff? Too “samey”? I don’t even know the right word for it. Everything in my art looks TOO much like my art, if that makes sense😭 And the worst part is that I’m terrified of changing it because I feel like I’ll lose all my followers the moment I start posting a new style. Like people followed me for THIS specific look, not for me as an artist. Have any of you gone through this before? Did you manage to fix it? Or did you eventually just accept your style and stick with it?

Today I want to talk about one argument that some people use against religion and honestly, I think it’s one of the weakest and most irrational ones out there. “If God exists, why does He allow suffering? Why do terrible things happen?” I’m not yet religious myself. I’m a Deist. But this argument has always felt incredibly shallow to me, because people completely ignore the entire concept of free will. According to Christianity, God allowed even His own son to suffer. Jesus was humiliated, tortured, and killed on a cross and God did not stop it. Not because He “couldn’t,” but because the whole point of humanity is choice. Human beings have minds, emotions, and the ability to decide what they do. People choose violence, cruelty, war, betrayal. And blaming God for every human action is like blaming the creator of chess for the bad moves made by the players. If every action were controlled from above, if every thought were corrected before it happened, humans would no longer be human. They would be something else entirely beings without freedom, without individuality, without real choice. That’s why this argument has always confused me. People demand freedom, but at the same time expect someone above them to instantly erase every consequence of human decisions. I have no issue with other arguments against religion. But this one has always seemed like one of the weakest to me. And the same people cry about that “they won’t obey” or “be controlled” by anyone 🤦🏼‍♀️

I have two hyperfixations, and they’re not just “interests” anymore. The first one is Greek mythology, especially the Trojan War. I don’t just like it I’m completely locked into it. I want to know everything. Every detail, every version, every historical layer. I draw it constantly, I think about it constantly it’s basically part of who I am at this point. I mean I built a whole big art account on it and this is basically my personality now.

But the second hyperfixation is worse and it’s s secret one, Christianity. I grew up in a deist family, no religious upbringing, nothing. And then at 17 I went to a church on my own and something in my brain just snapped into place. Now I’m obsessed. With everything. The atmosphere, the rituals, the candles, the incense, the architecture, the music but especially priests. Like… especially priests.
I don’t know how to say this in a normal way, I am hyperfixated on priests to an actually insane level. The way they live, speak, move, dress, exist everything about them scratches something in my brain so perfectly it’s almost unbearable. I make characters, I write about them, I build entire inner worlds around them. I romanticize it, I idealize it, I KNOW I do and I still can’t stop. Being in a church feels like my brain is getting flooded with something. Not in a weird way just this intense, overwhelming “this is everything” feeling. I love it. Too much. And the craziest part? I’m not even religious like that. I believe in God, but not in a specific religion. I’m aware it’s not perfect. I know real life isn’t aesthetic, holy, dramatic perfection. I know there’s routine, problems, normal people behind it. Is this Some kind of obsession like can it be related to my ADHD or something else?

Women often seem attracted to fantasy archetypes like vampires, werewolves, demons etc. Not just real people, but specific “types.” Do men have something similar? Like being into princesses, elves, goddesses, or other themed fantasy types, not just “an attractive woman”? And do men actually like the idea of their partner roleplaying something like that, or is this kind of attraction less common for them?

I’m F19 and still living with my parents. The problem is our house is always a mess. Not just a little clutter. I mean constant, overwhelming chaos. It’s been like this my whole life, and honestly I think it messed me up a bit. I could never invite friends over, never felt comfortable, always embarrassed. Technically, it’s not like there’s literal dirt everywhere but if you look at the bigger picture, it’s just cluttered, disorganized, stuff piled everywhere, cabinets overflowing, things never put back properly. It feels suffocating. And somehow, my mom blames me for it. She says I’m the one making the mess, that I don’t clean, that I’m careless. Meanwhile I spend most of my day at work. Yes, maybe she’s right to some extent I’m not perfect. But this didn’t start with me. This has always been the environment I grew up in. And here’s the part that really gets to me, If my mom were organized, I feel like I would’ve naturally become that way too. But she refuses to even consider that. Instead, she expects me to basically take responsibility for the entire house. And yeah… I could clean. If it were my own place, I would. That’s the difference. I know it’s “my home” too, but it doesn’t feel like my space in that sense. Living in that kind of environment kills all motivation. Even my own room ends up messy, not because I can’t clean it (I can do it in like 10-15 minutes), but out of pure resistance. Like… why should I be the only one holding everything together? And when I don’t clean? Guess who’s blamed. Me. One time I completely organized the kitchen cabinets like, perfectly. A month later? Completely trashed again, overstuffed, back to zero. And another thing that drives me insane: I’ve developed such a strong reaction to mess that outside of home I’m the opposite. I keep everything perfectly in order to the point where people think I’m some kind of extreme neat freak and that my home must look the same. It doesn’t. Not even close. I honestly can’t wait for the day I move out and have my own place my own kitchen, my own apartment where everything is exactly where it should be. I’m not even a minimalist. I actually like having a lot of things. I’m more of a maximalist. I just need everything to have its place. I’m honestly exhausted. I don’t need the usual “just move out” advice that’s not an option right now.

1) Choose carefully who you share this with
Do not share this with just anyone especially not with people who have never experienced this kind of fear. They will not understand. They may not want to hurt you, but they will say things that only make it worse.

“You didn’t exist before you were born.”
“Death is just like sleep.”
“Just don’t think about it.”

These may sound calming to them, but for someone in panic, they can feel almost cruel. Because what scares you is not just death. What scares you is the inability to comprehend non existence. What scares you is the disappearance of the “self.” What scares you is a thought your mind simply cannot process.
So choose carefully who you open up to.

2) Change your way of thinking
Do not blindly accept the idea that everything can be explained only by the body, the brain, and biology. I’m not saying reject science but human existence cannot be reduced to something so simple. We are not just matter that turns on once and then turns off. If we were only a body, only a set of chemical reactions, how would we be any different from an object? Why would we carry this strange, almost impossible feeling of “I exist”?
Look at the beginning of the universe at the moment we call the Big Bang. No one truly knows why it happened the way it did. Why are the laws of physics so precise? Why does everything exist in such a fragile balance? Why is there something instead of absolute nothing? We are not even capable of understanding infinity. When we try to imagine it, our minds still create boundaries, shapes, limits. And we cannot understand non-existence either because the moment we try to think about it, we turn it into something.
And in that not-knowing, there is hope. You did not exist for billions of years. There was no consciousness, no thoughts, no voice, no fear, no memories. Just an endless silence in which there wasn’t even a “you” to notice it. And suddenly you are here. You exist. That alone is almost impossible. For you to exist exactly as you are, an unimaginable chain of events had to align: the birth of the universe, the formation of stars, the creation of elements, the formation of Earth, life, evolution, generations of people, coincidences, decisions, bodies, cells, time itself. All of this just for you to be here, reading this, thinking about your own death.
Isn’t that madness? Doesn’t existence itself feel like a miracle? Maybe the real question is not “how” we came to be, but “why.” Why is there life at all? Why is there consciousness? Why are we capable of fearing death if we are supposedly just temporary biological systems? I don’t know the answer. No one does. But that not knowing leaves space for meaning. Maybe existence is not as random as it seems. Maybe our presence here is not empty.
Maybe if something so impossible has happened, there is a reason behind it one we simply cannot understand yet.

3) When your thoughts get louder at night, exhaust your body
I know this is not the healthiest solution. I know it can sound like a coping mechanism a way of running away from your thoughts. But sometimes, when the fear becomes unbearable, you don’t need a perfect solution. You need something that helps you survive the night. Watch movies. Draw. Read. Do anything. Use your hands. Write, play, watch series, create stories anything that keeps your mind occupied. Tire your body so much that when you close your eyes, you no longer have the strength to think. So that only sleep remains. This helped me. Because I had terrifying panic attacks. And sometimes the only thing that saved me was reaching the point where my mind could no longer continue tormenting me.

4) Attach yourself to something greater
Yes, I understand that for some, this is also a coping mechanism. But sometimes a person does not need a dry answer they need a place where their fear won’t be dismissed. If you feel close to religion, go to a church, a mosque any place where you feel calm. Sit there. Stay in the silence. Talk to a priest, an imam, someone who is used to speaking about death not as an end, but as a mystery.
Sometimes, that alone brings peace. Not because you are given proof of what comes after, but because someone is there who will not laugh at your fear.

5) Try to live only here
Right now. Not your past self. Not your future self. Just this breath, this second, this awareness. And try, even for a moment, not to think about who you were… or who you will become. Because the second you do, something shifts you feel time. You feel it slipping. The past reminds you that things are already gone. The future reminds you that things will be gone. And suddenly, this moment no longer feels still it feels like it’s falling. That’s why time feels like it’s flying. Not because it actually speeds up, but because your mind is constantly pulling you away from the present stretching you between what no longer exists and what does not yet exist. Your past self is a memory. Your future self is an idea.
But this moment this exact, quiet, fragile point is the only place where you truly exist. And the more you try to hold onto time, the faster it seems to escape.
Because time is not something you can hold.
It is something you pass through. So maybe the question is not “why is time flying?”Maybe it’s this:
When was the last time you were truly here?

6) Find something to hold on to
A hobby. Something to do. Something to create.
Draw. Write. Learn. Build something anything that is yours. Because emptiness quickly becomes a home for these thoughts. But the more life you put into your days, the less space fear has to grow.
This fear does not make you weak. It means you have felt your own existence deeply. And maybe… there is something almost sacred in that. We are afraid to disappear because being here already feels like a miracle.

When I was a child, something happened to me that I still can’t explain and no one in my family believes me. When we moved into a new house, there was a painting hanging in the hallway. It wasn’t an icon, more like a Renaissance style artwork, the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus. I clearly remember that he was at her chest, and both of them Mary and Jesus seemed to be looking directly at us. That painting stayed there for years. I saw it every single day walking up the stairs after school, passing by it, just living in that house. This went on until I was already fairly aware, around 11–12 years old. And then one day, it was just gone.. At the time, I assumed my mom had taken it down. I didn’t think much of it. Years later, in high school, my art teacher asked us to recreate a painting of our choice. And suddenly, I remembered that exact one. It was perfect for the assignment. I decided to find it and bring it. But I couldn’t find it anywhere. Not in the basement, not in the attic nowhere. So I asked my mom where it was. She told me we never had a painting like that. I thought maybe she just forgot, so I asked my dad he said the same thing. I asked everyone else who had lived in that house with us. Every single person said the painting had never existed. Later, I even went back to that house my uncle lives there now and checked the wall myself. There were no marks, no holes, nothing to suggest anything had ever been hanging there. Which means that for years of my childhood even at an age where I was fully aware I saw something every single day that, according to everyone else, was never there. I still don’t know how to explain it. And it honestly scares me.

Anyone wanna draw together? I kinda need someone to stay focused with me while drawing 😭 We can chat a bit first, then just send each other our progress as we go. I’m not into voice calls at all, so just texting. If you’re interested, DM me pls ✨

I know this isn’t a skill issue. If I actually focus, I can finish a full piece in like an hour or two. But I never do. I start one drawing, get bored halfway, open another, then another… and suddenly I have 3–4 unfinished pieces and no motivation to finish any of them. Starting feels good, but not finishing anything just feels empty. The weird part is sometimes I randomly do finish something, so clearly I can focus. I just can’t control when it happens. How do you actually make yourself stick to one piece and finish it?

Because no matter how I try to frame it, every possibility feels metaphysically unsettling. Either consciousness ends completely, dissolving into absolute non-being… or it persists indefinitely in some form an unbroken continuity that stretches into infinity. And strangely, both are equally disorienting. Non existence, in particular, feels almost impossible to grasp. Not just emotionally, but conceptually. Before I was born, there was an immeasurable expanse of time in which I simply was not and yet, somehow, out of that vast indifference, a precise chain of events unfolded: the formation of the universe, the emergence of life, the convergence of countless contingencies across generations all culminating in this moment of awareness. The sheer improbability of it makes my existence feel less like a given and more like an anomaly. And yet, this anomaly is temporary. I will cease. The Earth itself will cease. Even the structures that make existence intelligible space, time, matter may not be permanent. The idea that everything we take as fundamental is contingent, finite, and ultimately dissolvable is deeply destabilizing. But what troubles me most is the concept of nothingness itself. Not as a poetic absence, but as a literal negation of being. What does it mean for something to not be within the horizon of infinity? How can there be an “after” that contains no subject to experience it? Is non existence even a state, or is it the collapse of the very framework that allows us to speak of states at all? It’s not just fear it’s a kind of cognitive vertigo. The mind keeps reaching for something to hold onto, but every path leads either to an incomprehensible void or to an equally incomprehensible eternity. And I don’t know which one is more terrifying.

I have a priest kink and it has reached genuinely unhinged levels. It’s actually so bad. Mid 30s to 40s, calm voice, slightly tired eyes like he’s carrying the weight of the world.. I’m DONE. The way they stand there all composed with those black robes is making me crazy like robes make everything worse, like they add this whole layer of mystery and restraint that just makes it ten times more intense for no reason. I try to be normal, like “today I will be sane,” and then I see one well groomed priest and suddenly I’m spiraling like it’s Fleabag but somehow worse. And I think what really makes it unbearable is the fact that it feels so forbidden the whole taboo shit. The way i want to dominate that calm, composed looking man and make him beg, stand on his knees just for me, see him cry Lord have mercy 😭