"I never knew how big this would turn out to be,I thought it would be a copy of the stereotypical *lay down and talk to me about how you feel* kind of illness,sharing was my thing but know I really am scared of judgment and labeling and sadly I am judged and labaled,so I never talk or I rarely talk about this to be specific;It all started when I was called a lesbian for having short hair,I really was surprised that for liking my hair short,my sexual preference changed;I was so young so the only 2 choices infront of me were to transfer schools or suffer with the rumors,and I changed schools,I went to a school that I knew had a harsh judgments and stuff and when I tried to talk my parents out of it they said "just let your hair grow and nothing will happen" so I did and I tried to be the girly girl that I am not but acting is less painful than being called a lesbian and I had no tolerance for these kinds of childish acts,I did what every teenager in "e3dady" does,I dated,And I was cheated on by the guy that I liked for 3 years and dated for 8 months,I transferred schools again because I was really suffering from backstabbing and harsh judgments and that summer it all started,i asked myself how everyone else is wrong and I'm losing everyone and how is everyon is wrong about me,it felt like drowning and i asked my mom for help and the first thing she said was "psychiatric". I thought it would be easy but it wasn't,the questions I was asked were bullets going through my skin. After the "psychiatric" talked and talked and perscripted a lot of meds that really messed with my body like lamictal and others,we found out that I was misdiagnosed,I knew that I wasn't clincaly depressed,I refused to take the meds and everyone tried to talk me into visiting someone else and I utterly refused,it was not a topic of discussion to me,I was done with the chemicals making me lose my appetite,my sleep and the sense of feeling anything aroud me. After a while and I really was surprised with my choice and decision,I decided to see someone else,I retold my story again,cried again,but the crying wasn't as hard as the first time and I think it's because I lost hope.I was really mad that they wouldn't tell me what was wrong with me,why my love for coldplay was no longer there,why Drawing was nothing to me,why talking wasn't my thing anymore;I asked and asked and asked,asked the thrrapist,asked the psychiatric,asked my mom and even asked myself and after 14 sessions of therapy, 7 meet ups with the psychiatric and 4 courses of different meds,I got the answer "BPD" I was relieved but sad and it was pretty normal,googled it,got the answeres to my questions and the only thing that haunts me till now,is knowing that it would be too late if I turn 18 with this but here I am,2 years away from my deadline,with a lot of dreams but a little monster slowly eating me alive,I wouldn't say I love life but I'll never say that I hate it,I am strong and I am aware of it but I need more love and attention to what is happening inside my mind. I hate my BPD."