A typical day for le emotions.

Just a post I sent to someone on Reddit as a reply. They suffer bipolar, I'm suspecting myself on bipolar. It seemed too reflective on my "typical day" to let go. So here we are:

"I've been suspecting myself of having bipolar but I'm waiting to change doctors until I can discuss seeing a therapist to look into it further. Although I do have BPD, from my own personal research I think "bipolar borderline" would be a better classification but I need to see a therapist before I begin to determine anything.

Just a note on my posts

Currently feeling somewhat sane (read: depressive yet rational).

Many of my melancholic posts are/will be written during my depressive episodes. I feel obliged to mention that I'm not always like that, it's only when I'm alone or left to my self or when I'm experiencing that "in a crowd yet still feel aloneness" sort of thing. I've had a few emails from some of you stating your concern(s) and I can't help but thank you enough for it -- it's so much more than my own family and friends do so thank you for showing me some hope in this desolate world I'm living.

"About Me" Part 1

My "About Me" page needs an update. These posts shall be my attempt in doing that.

We could say this entire blog is about me. It isn't. It's about my mind. My "innermost thoughts", as people like to call it. Or, "the real me". Truth be told, there is no real me. I don't know who "me" is. When I see similar traits of myself in others is when I can see a part of me, but never can I see me. When I look into the mirror, I feel fear -- "me" becomes real.

I always wondered whose life mine would emulate. I always hoped 'The Number 23' would occur with me because life's spoilers are awesome. Two years ago I was studying A Streetcar Named Desire. Entirely thrown off by the title, I didn't pay any attention until my class and I had a little analytical mindgasm over character Blanche DuBois. Never did I realise she is me. My 'Number 23' is Streetcar. I'm just hoping the end comes for me as quick as it did for Blanche.

Feeling sorry for myself

I have no self worth. I've spent so much time convincing myself otherwise in the past but now i realise it might be rapid cycling or the borderline's equivalent of that.

There are times when I feel like I'm on top of the world and times like now where I become a depressive I never knew existed within myself.

When I feel on top of the world is when even the most insignificant good thing happens to me. When I feel like this I convince myself that I am a confident person. I have a tendency to brag about it because I think if I show people that I'm confident then maybe they'll feel the same about themselves too. I'm hyperdependent on the smaller things in life because they're all I've got.

I don't have many friends. I don't know if I have any friends left. "Me, myself and I" is an understatement. I don't even have me because my mental illness just makes me so fucked out of my mind. I'm a fucking screw up.

I constantly ask myself how did I turn out to be like this. Truth be told, I have no fucking idea. I've always been a recluse. I've always been the weird kid that nobody wanted and the people that took her on felt forced to take her on -- they didn't want me. Nobody fucking wants me. The only people I have are my family because we're bound by blood. If my mum didn't give birth to me then even they wouldn't want me.

I'm just waiting for death to come wash over me. Hopefully I can find some peace then.

Remember when love was simply an ideal you could feel via music?

I used to be infatuated with the idea of love. I went to an all girls school during the earlier part of my teenage years so an unfortunate teacher because the object of my affections, or the medium through which I could exhibit my obsession.

Coming up to a year since I was raped.

As much as I like to blame myself or my ex about what happened to me, I've also started to put a lot of the blame on this particular moment. I think it was the 14th. I honestly can't remember which is weird for me because I'm the girl who remembers every date of every significant (personal) event. A huge part of me doesn't want to remember but an even bigger part of me wants to put myself through the torture of having my imagination repeat the day, hour to hour. I did that at the end of last month -- a year since I lost my virginity.