Although I've been in therapy for almost 7 years, I just managed to massage a diagnosis out of my therapist. She didn't want to give me one, because she wanted to protect me from the stigma. She was right, but I forced it out of her anyway. Now I'm fucked. Stuck with this BPD shit. I mean, how would I ever tell my (future) SO??? He would just leave me immediately, I know I would get the fuck out as all those beautifully nonfuckedup people suggest all over the interwebs. Not that I have a SO, I've been single for over 5 years. No surprises there. I'm a horrible person. No empathy. The harder I try, the uglier I become. Almost always turn into a bunny boiler by the end. Hating is what I do best. I have sooo much baggage even without BPD, it's almost impossible for anyone to relate and accept. An ex stripper with innumerable sexual partners, drinking, drugs, violence, dysfunctional relationships and a spectacularly failed career. The world would be a better place without me and the only things I'm good at is hating and suffering anyway. I wish I was never born.   