I wish it could just be a major depression caused by PTSD that could be treated. But it's really not... cause I can feel SO happy sometimes, and the next second I'm having a panic attack. Nothing ever gets better and in the long run, nothing really changes. I feel like I need to remind myself of the coming pain by always keeping fresh self-harm sores on my legs and sometimes by triggering myself to have control. I don't want to feel happy and then just loose it. This isn't living. I'm at an institution, A, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with has BPD too, is a heroin addict trying to recover and who constantly gets death threats from junkies and dealers, my 14 year old brother's been so ill he can barely move for the past 2 years, my mom's recovering from kushings syndrome, has a major depression and is suicidal and my father who used to be abusive towards me hates himself because of me. How could anything ever get better? I'm not even a real person. If you'd take my mental illness away there'd be nothing left of me. I act like the people I'm currently around but there really is no 'me'. I'm scared. I promised A to take her away from here next year. To escape all of those bad people in her life. But how the hell are we, two 18 and 19 (now 17 and 18) year old borderlines gonna make it on our own? I'm scared. And empty. I want to scream but I'm so calm. Why can't anything ever be easy?

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