Insanity in my Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short view into the mind of someone suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder.

Submitted: September 29, 2011

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Submitted: September 29, 2011



Insanity in my Mind

It's Tuesday again. What a rotten day. I hate Tuesdays. Tuesday means early tutorials. Getting out of bed at nine for a ten o'clock tutorial. Most people think I'm begin selfish and whiny when I say that, but I have an honest reason: I need all the sleep I can get. My insomnia is bad at the moment; worse than it's been for a while. I'm not sleeping more than three hours a night, and getting out of bed seems like the hardest thing in the world.

My boyfriend offered for me to stay with him, and I accepted. I felt like I had to. I mean, I have to do what he wants and make him happy, because if I don't then he'll hate me and leave me. I couldn't stand to be alone. I love him. I don't want him to leave me. So I'll do everything he says. I do love him. It sounds like I don't, but I do. More than anything.

Except for right now. How dare he say that to me. He's so horrible and such a bastard! All he ever does is insult me, and he never gives me a chance. All I'm trying to do is help. That's all I ever do. I sacrifice everything to make everyone else happy, even my own happiness. I'm never happy because I'm always trying to make others happy. It's not fair! Everyone just takes me for granted, and no one ever cares about how I feel!

And his stupid empty apologies... They're the worst. They're just so empty and painful. You can tell that he doesn't know what he's apologising for, and that just makes it hurt even more. I just feel so misunderstood, but I'm also angry, because the only reason why I'm misunderstood is that no one bothers trying to understand me.

All I want is one person, just one person, who will care.

There has to be someone out there, right? There's someone for everyone, and I guess I've already found my someone. He is amazing, but he's not enough. Because, he'll hurt me too. He's onyl human. I want something more. I guess, what it is is a mentor. I want someone who will fill the hole in me that was meant to be filled by my parents. The one that they left empty with their lack of trust, lack of affection, lack of love.

I hate my parents even more than I ahte him. I don't hate him at all, really. I was just angry. Now I'm sorry. I love him, I really do. So much. I love him to bits, and I don't ever want to hurt him. (I don't ever want to hurt him, because then he'll hate me and leave me.) So it's different to my parents, because I don't care about my parents. I hate them. I always ahve and I always will. There's no love between us, and there never has been. there never will be, either, because I know that they will never change their ways, and I will never forgive them.

Not ever.

They don't deserve forgiveness.

Tehy're horrible people, and I never want to see them again, or speak to them, or have anything to do with them. If I had a choice, I'd run away, stay away. Maybe, I'd grab my siblings first, and get them out of there to a safe environment, before they could end up like me.

Like I am: abused, empty, dead.

The hole is in me, and I know it's never going to go away. It'll stay there forever: no therapy or medications can get rid of it. I'm stuck with it. That may sound pessimistic, but it's actually true. This isn't the kind of hole that you can sew up or put a lid on. Sure, I can learn to cope with it better, but that isn't going to make it go away. The pain, the nausea, the hurt, the horribleness... All of that will still exist just under the surface.

That's what it means to be borderline.

It's a hole that nothing will ever fill. No matter how much I try to delude myself about what I "need", in the back of my heart and mind I know this: there is nothing out there that can fill the hole. No drugs, no medication, no highs, no lows, no love, no pain. There is nothing, and nothing matters. Except the hole, which is all-consuming and takes over your life.

It does not matter if I am happy, nor if I am sad. It does not matter if I am drunk or sober. It does not matter if I am alive, or just merely living. Nothing matters.

The worst thing is that I don't matter either. The only person who cares about me is me, and even I don't care enough to make a difference. I don't even know who I am. Perhaps I mould myself to what the people around me want, or I lose myself in a crowd. I don't know. I am a chameleon, and at the same time I stand out. Yet, it's always for a bad reason. I am not a person, so much as an amorpheous lack of person.

All this just because it's a Tuesday. I wish I'd stayed in bed today.


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