I probably expect something close to parental love from anyone I care about. More than that, I probably expect something close to the love of perfect, unreal parents.
Borderline Personality Disorder: What Does it Feel Like?
By crossing.the.border on February 16, 2015
I think it all started when I was a high-school senior. My parents went abroad for a year; I refused to join them and stayed with my grandmother. Later on some people would blame my parents, but I don’t think their departure was a cause or a trigger; I’m just mentioning their temporary absence as a fact.
Everyone thought I was just having some attitude problems, and, hell, when you are 17 you are almost expected to have an attitude. I definitely thought of myself as this charming rebel, someone who only attends classes she likes and doesn’t really care about such things as teachers, grades or her future.
My teachers would spend hours talking about me, trying to figure out what was going on. I knew that and I liked the attention. I mean, there were almost 40 kids in a classroom, and my teachers spent their meetings discussing me – that made me important, didn’t it?
Then, for some reason, I began thinking about death, and to be more specific – about self-inflicted death.
I don’t even remember today what the original trigger was; it probably had to do with my confused identity, though.