The memory part of my mind, the part where all the memories are...It's like a haunted mental asylum with 100 rooms and 1000 ghosts. (underestimate)
The thing that upsets me is that I hardly recognise the place!....but I live there, I run it ...hell I own the damn place! And I have absolutely no control over the dead inpatients. (some of them are somewhat disturbed.... yep)
I wonder that with BPD, events, incidents, interactions, loves, hates..whatever....the volume seems to be turned way up much of the time. Life can and has been like a rock concert of emotions, and I've been standing right next to the damn speakers!
I have made my way through life with 2 fingers jammed in my ears and my eyes shut tight.
Meanwhile the memories, they just keep on and kept on accumulating. Good and bad they hurt, so they feel all bad. What blows me away is that I really don't know if all these memories are mine or if they are not....not for certain. The ghosts in my asylum yell out at me, they call out to me from their locked cells like they know me but I forgot them long ago...at least I think I did.
Dissociating has been a reflex and it has made me a very unpredictable person..(omfg!)....yikes
I don't do much these days...I can't even listen to music...
the triggers are everywhere!
aint so bad

