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I can’t keep on like this. Everything is pissing me off. My two friends and I have this Facebook group message and my one friend posts a funny meme almost every morning. The other girl always insists on never laughing or joining in on the humor of it and always has to get philosophical. It’s so fucking annoying. She kills it for me.

I’m tired of holding shit in. It’s killing me. I really don’t want to go to therapy anymore or see my psychiatrist. What the fuck am I paying for? I am trying yet another anxiety medicine and am pretty sure I am completely immune to anti anxiety meds. NOTHING is working. I will try one more, if one more even exists, and then I’m fucking done. I’m so tired of this. I’m DONE.

Fuck everything. I don’t even want this fucking blog or website or Facebook page. It’s all absolutely fucking worthless. I can’t tolerate myself anymore. I hate myself with the greatest passion right now!!!!!! I can’t even express my anger!  No words will do it justice. I am completely out of fucking control!!!!

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Another Episode: the positive

So last night turned into another full swing episode. I tried to reach out to my boyfriend. I ended up going and laying in bed and realized at one point what I was doing and that I needed to fight it. I texted him and asked him to come hold me.

About 10 minutes later. He did. I could feel it growing inside me. Consuming me. It was coming and it was almost ready to strike.  I tried to stay still. Keep my eyes closed. Not make a sound. Like I was hiding from a monster, except the monster was growing inside me. I remember my eyes shooting open and just searching. It was telling me all of the things I could throw and destroy if I got up out of bed.

My boyfriend told me to roll over and look at him but I didn’t want to unleash this demon. When I did try to roll over, the crazy set in. I wrestled him a little and told him if I got my hands on the water bottle on the table I was going to throw it across the room. Well I got it, I think twice.

He got mad and left me. I was so broken. He left me. I raced out the front door and started my walking. Talking out loud and repeating shit over and over. I felt out of my mind. I eventually came to a bench and sat down. I hate watching myself be stupid and destructive and this time I could sort of hear myself telling me to stop. Thank God I did because last time I got pretty far from home; as far as walking is concerned.

After blowing up my boyfriend’s phone, I texted my sister. I could feel it going away but I knew it wasn’t quite done with me yet. Then the tears set in. I kept thinking about my family. My boyfriend and all of the kids and I just wanted to be part of it. I was so ashamed though and didn’t know how to go back home. How do I just rejoin the family? I felt so undeserving and confused; unworthy.

I talked to my sister. She drove to me so we could talk and it helped. We ended up laughing about something totally unrelated. It was nice though. Then she drove me home and we did my boyfriend’s son’s belated birthday cake. It was nice.

The rest of the night was ok but I felt like the little girl that I used to always talk about. I don’t talk about her much anymore. She’s too vulnerable. It’s easier to suppress. But this fucking demon loves the extra attention.

It’s draining. It literally sucks the energy out of me. I could have curled up and slept on the ground last night had my sister not shown up. I just needed someone to be there, talk to me, help me to reset and to give me the strength and confidence to go back home.

Stopped Meds

Wow I am not ok. I stopped taking my meds. I won’t say why due to people reading my blog that I’d rather not read it. You know who you are asshole.

Anyway, I stopped them. Cold turkey. I know. Dangerous. Don’t do it. Well I did it. I guess I could always start back up. It’s only been a couple of days. I am going crazy too so maybe I should but I don’t want to. Stubbornness? Maybe.

I guess part of me was hoping that I’d be just fine. I mean, I’ve been going to therapy for, what, almost a year? Yea, something like that. I thought therapy maybe was what was helping me, but screw that too. I just feel like pure borderline shit. No one gets it. No one but my fellow borderlines that is.

I’m paranoid as fuck. I’m terrified as fuck. I feel like a little kid afraid of the big bad world. Well the world is big and guess what, it is fucking bad. Truthfully. So maybe I’m valid for feeling afraid of it. I don’t know. I’m a fucking train wreck, and ye who reads my blog but shouldn’t can sadly vouch for the fact that I’m a fucking lunatic.

Don’t get me wrong. I can be the actress as needed when mom needs to be mom. That’s something I always am ok with. I can be mom. Other than that, I’m a fucking mess. I’m sick. Sick to my stomach I mean. Sick with anxiety. Rage. Rage at what I think is going on in the world around me. People are surely screwing me left and right behind my back. People are fucking liars. Liars and users. They just want to use you for what they can and keep you around for, well, I have no idea what for. Why would someone keep me around if they were just screwing with me? I mean seriously. Why keep a fucking raging borderline bitch by your side when you can go and have your fun without her? Why hurt her in the process?

Again, let me get this straight and be realistic for one god damn second and say that I have no reason that I can think of to lead me to believe that someone is doing me wrong. I just believe it anyway. I feel it in my bones.

The bitch. The evil bitch inside is back full on. She’s fucking with me like a fucking rag doll. A fucking helpless rag doll. She’s feeding me shit and it’s working. Tearing me down. Self harm? Want to. Did it yet? No. My boyfriend wouldn’t be happy and the last thing I want to do is anything that may make him want to leave me. Suicide? Want to. Obviously I haven’t done it yet. I’m here typing this shit.

All my followers are probably going to read this and think, “Wow, she really is a fucking nutjob.” Yea, it’s true. I held my shit together for awhile to write some well thought out posts but now here I am. Broken and fucked up. Are you happy (you know who you are)?

I’ll be back. Dinner time.

Giving into the Illness

My boyfriend is in China for 2 and a half weeks. He comes home in 5 days. I’ve made it this far and I’ve had my ups and downs…more downs than ups. Only one or two slightly major tantrums. However, I can’t take it anymore.

I don’t have the energy to fight it so I’m giving in. I may not talk to him anymore until Idk. Sometime after he is home. Or until I’m over my current episode. Who knows when that will be.

I hate this shit but this is me. Maybe he’ll realize I’m not worth it.

Consider me gone

FUCK!!!!!!

I am SO fucking angry right now. I hate everyone. People just don’t fucking give a shit. I fucking give up on everyone. They can all go fuck themselves. Enjoy your new boyfriend mom. Have great holidays with his family. Enjoy your new husband, sister. Have great holidays with his family. I could have gotten into a terrible accident today but don’t you fucking worry, I am ok. I will walk to work. I will figure it all out by myself. I will leave my car at the god damn dealership and walk my ass back home, except it’s way too fucking far to walk with my kids so I just won’t take it. If I’m lucky, there’s something seriously wrong with my car and it’ll be the end of me. I’m going to just race it down the highway and hope the brakes give out in the best most worst spot ever and I can just drive off the side of a bridge. No one will know any better. “It was her brakes.”.

I don’t need anyone. I won’t annoy you, boyfriend, with my neediness. I don’t need your truck. I don’t need anything. Keep your money. Keep your precious time. “Let me know if you need my help.” You won’t hear from me. I don’t need people. I will do you all a fucking favor and just keep to myself. No more texts to worry about. No more car trouble to make you have to take time out of your day. No more anything.

Fuck everyone. When my kids are grown, I’m fucking out of here. No one will know where I’ve went. I want nothing to do with anyone. Go enjoy your lives and be happy that you didn’t have to figure out how to get rid of me.

Consider me gone.

Discarded and Forgotten

Well I was winning. I ‘was’. I can feel it getting stronger. I hate emotions. I hate feeling sad. I fucking hate people. I’d rather live on a planet all by myself.

It hurts. I hurt. Why am I so easy to forget and disregard, or discard? I feel like yesterday’s news. The garbage in an alley behind some little dirty restaurant. Not even the stray animals want that garbage food because it’s even too gross for them. I feel like the gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. They’d rather trash the whole pair of shoes than try to get the gum off. The gum is so unwanted and just ruins their love for the shoes. Tainted them. But it’s not the gum’s fault that someone chewed them up and spit them out where it’d be trampled on.

I feel like a tumbleweed. Just being blown around with no real direction and no desire to fight back against the wind. Just being taken where it’s blown because it’s already dead and nothing matters anymore. It’s all alone out there.

I feel like a teardrop. Fallen to the floor where it becomes invisible. Blending in with it’s landing to eventually disappear as if it never existed. Accept it did, and it does, but no one knows or cares. And when it landed, although it made a sound, no one heard it. No one hears it when it falls because no one cares enough to listen.

I know next year Thanksgiving I will be on my own. So easily discarded. Put aside. Forgotten.

I really want to die.

End of Day Remarks

Maybe I shouldn’t be in a relationship. People hurt people. People hurt me. People can’t be trusted. Guys can’t be trusted. When will I learn. I’m an idiot. A complete fucking weak idiot.

God, just take me. How much longer do I have to beg? I’m a terrible person for even thinking that. I can’t win.

If I’m alive, I suffer and people around me, in turn, suffer. If I go, I am better and they suffer for just a little and then get over it. Right?

Goodnight.