{September 6, 2012}   Street Urchin

I should have known better to have not gone out tonight. I played a game with my gutt and I couldn’t tell which was right or wrong. But if I hadn’t gone out I wouldn’t be wrapped around This pole crying my heart out, in the middle of the street not caring that I am that crazy girl in the middle of the night typing on my phone. I know I need to get it together and this is part of the blog, to pick myself up, find the strength to get home.
My skin was rawer than baby’s flesh and the slightest sting, no matter how inconsequential ripped another layer off, that y dinner’s end I barely could feel and needed to flee because the present went from 20% present to less than 5% by the time I ran out to cry and let the gust of pain spew out.
The good thing about sitting on the street is there is nothing to cut myself with. The biggest fear is some idiot coming along but in this city even the bums and idiots are scared of women so I’m safe for now. How much better is here than home, not much.
At this point I feel stung and burned enough to put my head against the glass case of Banana Republic, curl into a smaller ball and go to sleep. Fashions Night Out, go figure, I’m out.
I’m so tired and so pained, bruised and emotionally numb, my eyed and mind work but the rest of me is a shell that could just go to hell. I can feel the dissociation coming on, just let it take hold s. can move away. All is little words, this harmless sentences, they’re all whips that hurt, you can’t see how well I hide the flinching, but I’m sore and I can’t move, I had to run to find this hole.
Do I need to go home?


{September 6, 2012}   Alone in the Crowd

How can I be at a bar surrounded by people and with friends and feel so alone and misunderstood. That no one can see the maelstrom inside of me. Cannot see how hard I am working to stay present, to smile, to engage. Within me is a whole other conversation and whirlwind of darker entertainment. The outside shell constitutes no more than 20% of me and 80% is waging its own battle.

et cetera
A Forgetful Traveler

Remembering the world one blog post at a time

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Life after Borderline Personality Disorder; making a life worth living through love, laughter, positivity and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy


The secret life of high-functioning borderline personality disorder.

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