*WARNING* I swear a few times during this anxiety-fueled panic rant. Sorry if you don’t like that kind of language

Hi. Yes, it is actually 2:16 A.M.

I can’t sleep, and my mom always tells me to write what I’m feeling when I can’t focus or can’t sleep. Let’s give it a try.

So, a little background: I have Borderline Personality Disorder. It means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it means I deal with a lot of shit from other disorders and they all combine to form me. Mostly anxiety and depression, but there’s a good mix of everything in there. A strong innate, crippling desire for perfection. A deep fear of abandonment. Constant fear of being forgotten. Bipolar-like mood swings. You name it, I probably have something like it.

Of course, this might not all be true. I really don’t understand it. For all I know, I could be blowing all of this out of proportion, as I usually do. But either way, I’m massively screwed up. I have a lot of issues that I have to resolve, and none of them are going to get fixed right now.

One of my recurring “nightmares” is that I’ll never get better. I so desperately want to be normal, and I’m terrified that I’ll always be this screwed up little girl. I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to outgrow this crap hand I’ve been dealt. I want to be better. I want to be able to grow up. I want to be able to just be normal. Is that too much to ask? All I want is to be able to live a normal life like everyone else. I just want to be able to go to college without nightly meltdowns. I just want to be able to get through work without constantly feeling like I’m about to throw up. I just want everything to stop.

Now, I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to die. I just want to be able to live.

Here’s the part where the motivational part of the blog. Here’s the part where I talk about some stupid little silver lining in the big black cloud.

But there just isn’t.

There is no bright side right now.

I’m scared. I’m depressed. I’m extremely anxious. I have no clear path ahead of me. I’m just walking through life waiting for the next panic attack. Waiting for the next depressive episode. Waiting for the next big bad to hit.

I wish I were stronger than this. I wish I could be better. I wish I could do better. I wish I wasn’t so fucking weak.

Other people get nervous, and they manage. Other people go through tragedy, and they handle grief in a logical way.

I get nervous, and I have a mental breakdown. I go through tragedy, and I curl up in my room throwing a freaking pity party. I don’t know how to manage. I fall apart every damn second that something remotely bad happens. I can’t stand it. I just want everything to stop.

I just want a normal life. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.

And here’s the part where I talk about “God’s divine plan” and how “God has a purpose for your life.”

Well I’m not feeling too purposeful right now. Right now, I’d like to be asleep. I’d like to be able to function like a normal human being. I’d like to know what I’m supposed to do. Of course, so would every other person, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

More than anything in the world, I want to be normal. I’ve always stood out. I was born a gifted child. I like to pretend I was supposedly destined for greatness. A greatness that never happened. In every school I went to, I stood out. I was either the new girl, the smart girl, the awkward girl, or a combination of any of the above. I never shook the nerdy reputation in high school. I would’ve given anything to be able to slide under the radar. Then came college. I thought it would be an excellent chance to reinvent myself, but then I started having my panic attacks. I suddenly became the damaged girl. The basket case. The absent girl. I had suddenly found a new way to stand out. Once again, I wanted to fly under the radar. I would’ve given anything to be normal. I wanted to fit in, and be a normal human being. (Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends I made in college and I wouldn’t trade them for anyone. I just wish I could have made a different impression and been a little less me).

Is normal too much to ask? I just want to be normal. I just want to fit in. I don’t want to be gifted. I don’t want to be talented. I just want to fly under the radar. I just want to stop being so dramatic. I want to stop feeling so much. I want to be normal.

Normal. It’ll never happen.

Just like getting better. It’s just an elusive dream.

I’m always going to be a screwed up little girl. I’m always going to be hurting. It’s just time to come to terms with it.

I’m sorry this wasn’t the uplifting message you usually get from me. I’m sorry this wasn’t the usual cookie cutter generic response I usually post. Sorry this isn’t some deep message filled with hope. This is the real me. I’m not a bright shining star. I’m a broken, hurting little girl. I’m so so sorry.

On that note, I have 5 hours until I need to be up for work, so I’m going to sign off. I probably won’t sleep, but I’m done writing.

Sorry it was so all over the place. Sorry it jumped around. I just thought I should write something real. Plus, it’s practically 3 A.M. What did you expect?