Nothing. Empty. I’d say soul crushing but I’d have to have a soul for that. That’s with borderline personality disorder feels like. Every day, I face a self that doesn’t exist.
That’s not entirely accurate. There’s some kind of consistent traits set that is me. Caring; protective; loyal; honorable; just; and a few others. According to my sister I’m a prankster. I’ve always liked telling stories.
The tough part is while other people can see these things, I can’t. I see what I think other people need from me; so I try to fill those needs no matter what the cost myself. It usually backfires. I’m crying writing that.
I don’t like knowing that my compulsive need to define myself based on other people’s needs hurts the very people that I care about. I hope one day I can learn how to stop.
Until then, I’ll try to have patience with myself, and I hope you’ll all try to have patience with me.