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  1. Hm.

    I don't like to talk to people about it. I just end up vulnerable. I hate feeling that someone has gotten too close to see who I really am.

    I have borderline personality disorder. My dream is to become a psychotherapist because then I get to help people who are the way I am. But it's going to be a hard task, if I can't even help myself. I have this annoying tendency to latch onto a person, putting them on a pedestal and looking up to them in such a way that when they don't respond the way I want them to, I lash out. I end up feeling hurt and making myself into a victim. I know I'm not a victim. And I know what I'm doing while I'm doing it; i.e. fighting with my boyfriend or friends over something so small. But for some reason, I can't stop myself. I've spent a good portion of my life pushing people away. I push because I want them to push back. I want to feel that I'm worth fighting for. Even when they do fight back, I'm still not happy. I'm never happy. I want to be happy with myself and I want to have faith in myself to feel that I'm worth a crap. But for some reason the only time I feel like worthy, is when people have to reassure me. It annoys the hell out of me.

    I've lost some amazing friends. And I wish more than anything, to be friends with them again, but I missed that chance. I ruined it.

    I don't know. I don't want pity. I don't want to make excuses for myself... because I had a pretty good upbringing. Yeah, my father was a drunk, my mom went in and out of surgery due to her weight, I had friends who preferred my sister's presence over mine, and I had a brother who sold drugs from the basement. And yeah, my mom, sister and brother never missed an opportunity to tell me that I would grow up without friends because I have no sense of humor and a horrible personality.

    But people go through worse. I feel selfish for being depressed over something that I can fix. There are people out in the world, fighting for this country and actually making a difference and I'm upset because things don't go my way. I really am a pretty pathetic person. I hate people like me.

    I don't know. I just needed to rant.
  2. With a fear of scrutiny,
    I stick to
    In high hopes
    Of discreetly
    Shameful flaws
    That weaken false confidence.
  3. “All that we are is a result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think, we become.” –Buddha

    Ever since I first learned how to write, I have kept a journal. The first journal I ever kept, consisted of pictures. I told the story of my life with colored pencils and crayons. Never markers, they smudge too much and cause my fingertips to turn colors. I crammed my most important thoughts onto five by seven sheets of blue paper, that had hard covers on both the front and back and even an awesome small gold key to go along with it. I made the key into a necklace, stringing it around my neck with pride, and wore it everyday.

    As I got older, my journal changed with me. From black composition notebooks like Harriet the Spy to plain one subject Five Star notebooks with a homemade collage glued on the front. My journals were both a journal and a scrapbook, because I love to collect memories, so I can always hold them at an arm’s length—to grab at a moment of insecurity or fear, or when I had something important to say and no one to say it to.

    I liked to keep to myself, because I didn’t want people to know me. Because once they did, they automatically had the power to hurt me. So I only allowed myself to be… me, on these sheets of paper.

    With each journal I have kept, I have written my life down. It is within the pages of each notebook, that I allow all that I am to be written. It is because of these pages in a notebook that are so meaningless to other people that I have sort of, found out who I am. It is the only time I don’t have to walk on eggshells, or be afraid that I’m going offend someone, or have the fear of sounding naïve when stating my beliefs…

    It is with each journal entry, that I allow myself to flow. Once my pen hits the paper, I am gone, into a world where I can say anything and everything. I’m so focused on what I’m writing that time passes me by. I’m in control of what is written next, and it’s nice to know that for once, I have the power to say anything.

    That is my experience with the term flow. Everyday, flow consists in my life… because I allow myself to be taken onto the pages of a notebook where I don’t think about anything else, except what I need to say next.

    I’m just “in the zone.”

    “If the desire to write is not accompanied by the actual writing, the desire must not be to write.” –Hugh Prather