I don't think my therapist understands just how terrible my loneliness feels. I exchange pleasantries with someone at the gym, and a barista asked me what kind of tea I wanted and what size the drink was to be. That is how everyday goes. I just study at this point to distract, but I see other people study together or talk, or live. 

I have also given up my most prominent coping mechanism and so I needed to find a new one. I was aware others with BPD self harm and I endeavored to discover why this is. I decided to use a usb cable that has a dock on it for a fit bit. I beat that into my leg until it tore skin, and instead of feeling emotionally dead, I felt something. Something &gt; nothing. 

But like this, my life is always invisible. I also write too much. So I wrote a letter for my therapist, front and back, and used a long quote from a book. I recorded myself reading the letter and after ever period and question mark, I beat my back with the cable. My phone picks up the beatings with a *slap* sound. 

I was proud, my back was marred with welts, scratches, and cuts. I had accomplished what I set out to do and I gave myself pain (that reminds me I am alive) that no others will give me. The pain I deserve. 

Next session, I will feign joy (I can assume any emotion I want). Our last session went pretty well so my therapist will think I am of high spirits. I need to act spot on since they are trained to read tells. I will ask, "can I play a recording regarding what we shall discuss today? I needed the advantage of articulating myself precisely", with a belying smile. I reveal half way the smacking sounds are me beating myself. I have a picture of my back and the damaged usb as proof if they think I gainsay them. 

I will then observe their face and read their tells. I must raise joy and immediately invoke pathos, if I am to get them to understand. 

The near cessation of social interaction is warping me, I think. Twisting my gestalt into a tortuous and horrid form. I deserve no less. 

I type this here so others might attack me. Those that I consider my ilk. Then my dread shall be complete. 