"I don't like being around people,
I don't like walking down the street.
I feel sorry for the people having to look at me."

They all got silent for a minute,
before one of the therapist asked the group,

"have you ever heard anyone feel like that before?"

They looked at each other, in slight shock.

"No, never." They said.

I don't want to write this. I don't want to admit to this. I don't want to be this.

But the need, no; the desperation to hurt is so intense, so strong. I feel completely helpless. Using this stupid ass blog to try to occupy myself, sidetrack myself. I don't even fucking know what to write. Horrible images going on repeat in my mind, horrible images of what I've done to myself over the years. The smell of blood, and the smell of burning flesh. Mutilated arms and legs that left people speechless. Uncountable stitches. Someone fucking help me

And the fact is;
it doesn't scare me anymore,
that, fucking scares me.

It's 2:30 am, I'm unable to sleep, and have work tomorrow.
Going to sleep without having to said good night to him isn't that easy, it's unusual, like something's missing, and well, it is. I know it'll calm down eventually, but as of now there's so much rumbling around inside my head, things seem to get to me a whole lot easier. A teasing comment can feel like a kick to the face, and a loving statement like stone cold mockery. - I do manage to get my mind on the right track -sometimes, when I give myself a few minutes to reflect on certain things. But all in all, my emotions overpower logic. Even when the emotions i'm having are complete bullshit.

- But what I was supposed to be writing, is
we both felt it, when we just started talking. Even after a couple of days, we both knew there was something there, something big,. Something that probably shouldn't be felt after only a few days, some intense connection, like we had known each other for years. I could tell he was feeling it, and i'm sure he could tell that I was too, even though none of us dared saying. It felt like I could tell him everything, this stranger, - and I could.
We fit together, even with our huge differences. We work.

My brain isn't working properly, it's overloading on chaos, glitter, and romantic sappy shit.
And Mark, I blame you!

:-)

Hey. It's been awhile.. See, I have this rule, to only write here when things aren't going to well. Yeah, you'd think I've been doing fine lately, since it's been so long since my last entry. - But remembering, even passwords, or what email you used, is harder when being borderline.
I don't know what's going on now, I don't know what I'm feeling, or what I'm doing. I don't understand, where's my mind? Where's the logic I always could see, even when deep in depression and anxiety. I feel numb, out of wack. Unconscious. I'm in no control, of anything that's happening around me, or in me. See, I can't even write this properly..

All I want is going to see him, rest my head on his shoulder, and feel all my troubles going away, even if just for a minute. But I'm scared, fuck it, I'm terrified. What if I ruin everything? I always ruin everything. Worrying about ruining everything, could fucking ruin everything. I feel stupid, like a fucking moron. - like a child.
What I do feel, and know for certain that I feel, is that I love him. Madly.

Mostly I'm doing well without him. Better than any of us expected. I do feel alone, and unloveable, but I've felt that for the most of my life, so I can manage. But once in a while - like when I can't sleep, I get to thinking about all the lovely things we had, the little things.
"Good morning baby."
But the worst part of missing someone, and something, is knowing that you're alone in feeling that way. That the other person seem to be completely so over you, that what used to be there between you, is fading, like it never truly was. That's the worst.
Sometimes I think; maybe if I don't talk to him for awhile, maybe then he'll miss me just a little; but the ugly truth is that if I did that, he'd probably forget me all together.
'Cause I'm nothing, absolutely nothing.

And he dumped me, just like that. The day after saying he did love me still, that he was still coming. After time and time again breaking my heart. Shattering it, and pissing on the pieces. It's a bit amusing, how he's the one leaving me, don't you think? I should have left ages ago, I know that.

But what's funnier, is that I'm probably the only person that will ever understand him better than he understands himself. The one that understood his feelings and his mistakes - to stand by him regardless of that. That forgave him time and time again, because I had been there. I had gone through what he was going through. A girl that loves him, loved him, even when he hurt me so bad I had to turn to self injury, and even hospitalization.

You might think I was weak to stay with him, but no. It wasn't weakness. It was strength. When I went through what he went through, and similar stuff to what I had felt, people left me. Never gave me a chance, never understood that something was out of my control. And I promised myself to never do that to anyone, to hurt them 'cause of who they were, and what they were going through.

But he was great, sometimes so wonderful and amazing. But when there's more pain than pleasure, it was doomed to fail. It still hurts, but not as much as it has in the past. Not as much as he thought it would. I still hope he will realize how good I was, and how good I would be for him. That's all. End of. Forever alone.