for writing love letters, and convincing the reader that it is addressed to that they're definite. I think what's even more unsettling is I have the sheer ability to convince myself they are true. It's one of the set backs of being a borderline. Sometimes I can't differentiate between probable truths or indecipherable idealizations. My brain can't make the distinction, maybe because I've been plagued by this disorder unknowingly for so long. My mind thinks in absolutes and even when warned, men seem to slime their way inside and I start to question myself.
David, my therapist, forewarned me in our last meeting, that even though I've made incredible progress... setbacks can be anticipated. I'm in a major transitional period of my life, although a regression isn't inevitable, it's likely... and to just know myself and try to base my decisions off how much I know about my disorder and my past. I treaded my feelings lightly the past few weeks, and have carried a big stick. But lately, my thoughts are too much and have infiltrated my dreams and have now, been making me physically ill. I'm dreaming of sharks again, and being cut up, and beaten and surviving these terrible obstacles.
I'm distancing from people who mean the most to me and distracting myself with ideals and dreams. I'm brushing people off, biting my tongue and have been in a daze for weeks. I don't even talk to MY David so much anymore, which bums me out. But if I talk, I have to be honest... and I'm not ready to talk honesty because I don't know what's what.
All I know is this, people disappoint me... and bore me and are complete idiots but are somehow content with their lives.
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