I'm standing at the crossroads of skepticism and curiosity, fully aware of the so-called wonders of journaling, yet I'm not entirely sold on the idea. It's like being told to eat your veggies as a kid – you know they're good for you, but you'd rather have ice cream. Now, I'm about to embark on this journey, a sort of expedition into the wilds of my own mind, as I grapple with the ever-twisting, turning paths of borderline personality disorder.
Sunday, August 14, 2022
Plans
Once again, the process of devising unfolds before me. However, this time, there shall be no further reliance on therapy, counselors, or the confinements of hospitals impeding my progress. Perhaps in the bygone days, my pleas and desperate acts of self-destruction were misconstrued as mere ploys for attention. Maybe. Yet, this time, the intricacies of my intentions shall remain shrouded, known to none. I shall meticulously and deliberately strategize every facet, mapping out the precise how, where, and when. All I can divulge is that the impending event draws near, for the ceaseless agony has become insufferable, overwhelming my being.
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