Wake up, pretend, hate self. repeat.

It’s been harder and harder to get through the days lately.  I started seeing a new psychiatrist and I’m starting new meds tomorrow for my anxiety and bipolar.  I also have to start therapy with a new psychologist who specializes in BPD.  Therapy always brings up everything that I’ve so artfully pushed down.  It’s always worse before anything improves. I’ve felt so fragile and trigger-sensitive lately that I don’t feel strong going into something that always knocks me on my ass.

I’ve seen Damien a few times lately.  He’s randomly fucking other people, which is fun. I’m also seeing a new guy, Tim, who basically just wants to fuck me, it seems like.  I’m supposed to go on a weekend trip with him next Friday.  He’s fine, I guess.  Mark is coming over tomorrow since it was my birthday on Friday.  I’m officially 23 and my life has never been more fucked up than it is right now.

I’ve been cutting nonstop tonight and the blood is soothing.  It’s so fucked up that I get pleasure from it.  It’s something that is always there for me.  I asked Damien to come over because I hate being by myself when I’m like this, but he doesn’t want to.  Yet, he still wants to move in together.  Why is everything so difficult to get through?  Dick is off in Seattle visiting his girlfriend, whom he apparently loves.  I don’t know why I’m still so hung up on him.

School has been slipping lately, but I have until Tuesday to get everything caught up.  I really want to do it and I know that I’m capable.  It just feels like my mental state is a blanket of fucked-upedness that falls over everything.  I hate that I am the way I am and I hate that I have to talk about everything in therapy.  The sexual and verbal abuse when I was little, the abortion, the death of my dad all come up in therapy and I hate dealing with it.  Which is probably why I’m in the state that I am.  I just want things to get better since I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.


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