I am notoriously self absorbed, so the idea that others will be able to read what I right tickles me. It more than tickles me, it gratifies me. Right now I am struggling unsuccessfully with a gambling addiction. It goes against the public persona that I have created for me to struggle this way, so I was actually thinking of setting up an alter account for my alter ego on a main blog site. This will work just dandy. Now I get to be my own dirty doppelganger and still be on the downlow with what a #######5 person I am.

this is going to be my first post, i'm not really sure where to start this post so i'm going to jump right in, i have a been wondering lately whether i may suffer from borderline personality disorder, i have had this feeling for a long time that i am not quite right, i have this emptiness inside me, it feels like i am a camera stuck on live feed but no ones watching, i often feel like this regardless of whether i am content or unhappy.

onto how i feel, sometimes i lie awake at night reliving the past day, i feel ups, downs, and sometimes a cold icy rage. i have little control over my thoughts and feelings at these times, or anytime really. i can maintain at times, but only for seconds before i'm lost again. during the day when faced with interactions with people at work etc. i wear a mask that's all smile and charm, at times it feels more real than others. when like this i have little room for empathy or genuine care and affection, because one chink in my armour it could all come crumbling down. regardless of this, time, tiredness, stress and everyday interactions slowly erode it away. the harder i try to keep it on the worse the emotional comedown is. at home i can hide away in a book or hobby, at work i will feel like a zombie, just going through the motions, lost.

i have always known that i have a very adaptable personality, it became more clear with a friend recently pointed out to me, that i completely change, interaction to interaction, almost instantly, depending who is around, effectively becoming a different person. i think i choose the path of least resistance, the easiest and the safest. at times it feels like i am just mirror, lost in someone elses reflection. my lack of self has made me easy to be manipulated and used for the benefit of others at times sadly.

the people i allow myself to care about seem to effect me the most, i don't wear a mask with them, even if i wanted to i can't , this can result in myself becoming this mirror colored thing, for the most part i don't mind because we are happy, and i am more comfortable asserting myself, or the self i want to be,

i think this has been a pretty long post, i will leave it here. if there are any questions i will be happy to answer them. thankyou

I just don't understand my "family". I leave my purse and wallet out on the table and they come and go through it. They just pick my wallet up and flip through my check book. And when I said something my grandmother got mad. She just got mad and smarted me off, then walked away. It's like this all the time, it's like I'm supposed to let them run over me and do or say whatever they want about me or my stuff, and if I say anything I'm a bitch or I don't know what I'm talking about. Honestly it makes me sick just to be here. Sometimes I just feel like I can't take it anymore, like my time is over and I should just commit suicide.

I'm not sure what I should do, I had a dream and my therapist was in my dream, by the way the dream was NOT sexual. I am wondering if I should tell him about my dream or not????

My mom wants me to get rid of my scars...But i find i really don't want too. I don't not want to wake up and not see them there on my left shoulder, on my left wrist and my right hip bone. Sick? Very, i know. My own mom looked at me like i was crazy when i told her, which i probably am. No healthy person cuts themselves, that's obvious. Or at least in my case, used too.

I stopped cutting maybe a couple of months before high school graduation but it wasn't due to my mother finding me out. Instead my boyfriend did and made me promise to never do it again, cutting my mother to the punch line. My mom found out a month after him, i believe. She didn't believe me when i told her i stopped, so i gave her the scissors i used to hurt myself. That was my second step to stopping i guess. My third had to be when she got me medicine to take away the scars...but now on the fourth step, actually putting the stuff on, i'm stuck.

I've put it on once or twice but not religiously. I hate the idea of them not being there. They give me comfort and make me feel better. Am i wrong in wanting them there?