I Finally Found Myself.

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My name is Kirsten Boileau. I have no idea who I am. I lost myself along time ago, if you can even say it was myself I knew. This life I lead scares me and the life ahead scares me even more. I am really hard to figure out and I am too easy to say goodbye to. Some people say I change their lives, and I do, I ruin them. So it's best to never get to know me. I say I am complex but most of that is due to my Personality Disorders, not me myself. You will never know what I am thinking, because my mind is forever changing, as is my life. I might be here one day and leave the next. I'm a wanderer, so please step back and let me go. Because things never do really change, do they?

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Saturday September 4, 2010 (Part 1)

Today I went out of the house, and I will not forget how bright it seemed. Maybe it was just brighter today, or it could be from being cooped up in the house and not seeing the sun. I went to go eat lunch with Jerry and Josh. Man was it good to see them, but so hard to face them. I see how much they want to help me and see how much they want to see my smile. But it’s not me inside right now; it’s this depression that is taking over me. I see and hear everything, but it’s like I’m not here at all? Jerry brought up the “mirror” thing again. He wants me to stand in front of a mirror and tell it that I’m happy, people love me, and that I love people and me. The problem is I can’t seem to face the mirror. And I know people love me and I know I love people. But I don’t love myself. I know I don’t and I know I never will. Because I am the only one who see ALL my flaws. I hate myself for every flaw I have. I can’t help it. I know deep down inside and out I will never love myself. I don’t want to look in the mirror anymore than I have to, because I hate what I see.

I was getting really upset at the restaurant I wanted him to stop; I wanted to scream STOP IT. But I didn’t its Jerry and he thinks he knows me better than I know myself. But he hasn’t seen me undressed, he doesn’t know about those scars. No I haven’t cut in three months, but I still have those scars to remind me of what I did. They remind me of how much I hate myself. How much I hate all the health problems I have, hate my mental problems. I can never be normal. I never will. And that kills me more than anything. I just wanted to cry when he was talking to me, I couldn’t even look him in the face; I needed to take him home. And I did.

I am such a good person, I am. But all I think is about all the bad stuff I have done. Maybe I am saying all of this because I didn’t sleep last night. It was awful. Lying down, tossing and turning. Death on my mind again, eating me, devouring all my hope. Because most of the time, I feel like I have no hope. And that is when it gets the hardest. I am supposed to be going to Jimmy’s 21st birthday party. But I don’t know, I look like shit, and I can’t handle another shower, and I’d have to look in the mirror to put make up on…. I have no idea what to do. I hate when life gets like this. It takes so much motivation to just do the simplest thing. I guess I’ll go to the party. I’ll write later and tell you how it went…

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