My whole life since I can remember, I've always had this particularily dreadful feeling in my chest. And it's this feeling that drives my impulsive habits like cutting myself, or binging benzos and other shit. Everyday I wake up with this sinking hole in my heart. I feel like no matter what I do, there is always feel like theres a part of myself thats missing. That theres a piece of myself that i havent collected yet. So I'll get these crazy ideas for projects, or research nonstop about anything considered sacred text (primarily witchcraft, my current practice) because I'm scrambling to try to learn that one piece of knowledge, to do this one big achievement, because it makes me think that once i do, I'll finally be complete. This sounds all good and fun but the downside is Every. Single. Fucking. Time things take a turn for the worst, and i start feeling like im always going to be empty inside. That im nothing but the shriveled, empty skin of a snake and I'll never feel truly whole. Ive had a long history of self harm since i was 14, diagnosed with Bipolar type 2 at 16, then bpd at 17. Never really regarded them because i never felt the criteria fit me, i always felt since i was still a teenager there wasnt much of a way to know, but im currently 18 and reflecting on alot of my teen years. So ladies and gentlemen, am i mentally ill or am i just being a pussy?