I have been confused all my life.. like several others... But recently.. I just can not take it any more...
Well.. Most of the time its just- who am I, WHY AM i, WHere AM I... Whats going on..?? What is this place.. this world..?? I must be a human being by this wolrds semiotic system.. i have two hands, head, eyes, etc.. what all other creatures considered as humans have... and there is such life around us.. what we live.. with rules... with manners... how things are supposed to be... well.. it doesnt make much sense to me... i am able to follow this worlds orders on my better moments.. but sometimes im just like- why, wtf?? Why should i..
Sometimes again I live normal life.. according to this world... I can pretend like normal human being.. i can even forget for some time... my confusion.. but it comes back...
I have had moments of horror... When I am afraid of everything.. I can sit in a corner of a room, my back against a wall... or go under blanket.. hide there... from the world... to calm down...
Then I have moments of emptyness... when i think.. that not even moving my hand.. inhaling.. its not worth it.. as there is no point... whats the point to eat, to walk.. to put one lef in front of another.. to move on.. what for? why to buy a new computer, why to go to work.. why to study? why to function in this world...
im not sad... i dont care... i dont know... i dont see the point...
i do care about others suffering.. i care about sad and heartbroken or lonely people, sick people in pain, hungry animals.. etc... but what can i do for them? nothing.. i cant help myself...
i have started to avoid people and social events.. its not that i can not enjoy them.. i dont know how to even behave there... they dance and drink and talk.. but im thinking- whats the point?
I can still enjoy some emotional movies or books.. they get me off my confusion.. but real life.. not any more..
i used to have some good friends and we had fun.. we were traveling and doing things together...
now i want to be alone.. hide from worls and people...
i used to feel like in Robbie Williams song-
I dont wanna die, but I aint keen on living either...
but now Im feeling...
I dont want to live this world and this life, but Im afraid of death too...

So, I dont really know what to do... I can not die, I can not live.. Im just a empty soul... somewhere... somehow...

Would love to help someone solve their mind related issues.

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

[ Continued ]

so my boyfriend of a year and a half has bipolar disorder. We've broken up and fought many times over the past but everything always goes back to normal once he's done with that particular cycle. I know it sounds awful to go through but I am willing to and it is worth it to me. I'd never hold it against him because I've done my fair share of learning about the disorder and I know that he can't help it. I love him and I want to see him happy and I know I make him happy it's just when he gets moody it's always me. And I know that when he doesn't know what's wrong he's going to take it out on the person closest to him which is me, and I know I can't do anything about it, and that sucks. We've talked about his disorder before and he realized that I'm the only one who's there for him.

Now getting to what's going on right now, we hadn't fought in two months and everything was perfect and I knew that it was long overdue for him to go through a depressive, angry or manic cycle. Last Sunday I saw him and everything was fine, then that night when he was working he texted me and told me he was depressed, I know better than to ask him why or what's wrong so I just told him that if he needs me I'm here but if he needs his space I understand. He told me that he needed some space he just didn't want to have to say it, so we didn't talk because I wanted to respect that he needed space. On valentines day, that tuesday, I didn't want to waste my card so I drove the hour to see him and I put it on his doorstep and I left, as to not bother him. In the middle of the night he sent me a long text saying how he needs someone more mature and how I'm too negative and how he wants to break up. I'm neither of those things. He said he's on a path to self discovery as well. After we talked about that I asked if he got my card and he said yes and no, that he got it but he didn't read it, he hid it from himself in case he has a change of heart like he does other times with the things I give him when stuff like this happens.

We didn't talk all week and then today, Saturday, I don't know why but I had to say how I felt. So I sent him this long thing about how I felt and he was really nasty about it (which I was expecting). I just needed him to think about what he's doing. Also all week he has been tweeting all these sad song lyrics or he sounds happy. And in the past he's seemed happy and he would be out with his friends having a good time and not talking to me but that's expected and he'd always come back. The last time I told him how I felt and how his bipolar disorder was affecting me (because he knew he was bipolar he just had no idea what it meant) he got really angry at first but he called me later and told me that I was right and that he was sorry.

Everyone I've tried talking to about this just tells me I need to tell him to go on medication. He's tried it and doesn't like it and it's not my place to push him to do so. I know the real reasons he's upset are because he's a 20 year old boy who thinks his life is over because he hasn't started college yet, and I've been trying to help him to go to college, and I'm in no way trying to hold him back. I know he's just going through a cycle and he's not being himself right now and all of the other times he's always come back. It's just never lasted this long. I know it can't be the same every time but I just wanted to see some other opinions.

For now I just know I need to give him the space he needs and respect that and hopefully he'll come back sooner or later. I've been told I should leave him countless times by others but that's not what I want to do in the least bit.

Opinions? Advice?

i am CONSTANTLY picking off scabs and pimples on my face and even more so on my back. it's so embarrassing because i have tons of scars on my back and luckily on my face it isn't so bad. but whenever a new pimple or scab appears i pick it right away. i don't know why i do it. i don't even think about it when i am doing it. i don't have any disorders so i don't know if this is one and i want to know if i may have something that needs to be checked out.