I had to change my URL after that last post... just incase.
I really don't want BB reading that, so even if for some fucked up reason he knew my old URL, he won't know this one... right?
This is the first time in the history of this blog that I have changed the URL. Which is a big deal. I only change my usernames for a reason; usually when a new chapter of my life begins, and this is no exception.
I no longer feel like the 17-year-old girl who started this blog, which is probably a good thing since I'm now 23.
Yes, I still feel like a ghost, going through life without living; forever waiting for nothing.
But now, I'm angry about it hahaha no longer a peaceful ghost minding their own business, no. I'm fucking haunting shit.
Plus, this is fairly close to the username I use for my personal accounts, so that's cool.
After yesterday's post, I feel pretty embarrassed to admitting to all of that. I understand why everyone tells me I have BPD, apparently I'm fucking manipulative as hell, and without a conscious. I'm just some sort of attention-craving whore. Weird, never realized it.
I watched Chicago this morning when I couldn't sleep and goddamn do I want to be Roxie Hart. Or just a jazzy cabaret singer, Lana Del Rey is my biggest idol. Someone mysterious, sexy, innocent, but bad.
Maybe if I stay single I could hit that persona up a bit better than how I try to do it now. Like in the clubs I mean. I want to get better at having all the attention on me, but also I don't want to bounce from stupid boy to stupid boy in a night and end up with nothing. I need to capture everyone, and then put most of my focus on one person, that'll end up better I think.
I'd definitely need to make sure I don't get in too deep either, because I'm bad at that. I get my feelings in there even though I don't really care about the person. I care whether or not they care about me. So I should stop that, because it's dumb and makes me sad.
I also need to somehow update my wardrobe. I'm obsessed with slip dresses, fishnets, stockings/garters, visible bralettes, moto boots, thigh-high boots, leather jackets, and a smokey eye. That's my FW '16/17 must-haves. Don't judge me.
BUT, if I don't stay single I'm going to go home and stay there forever. I want someone to own me really, and look after me. I don't know why but I want to live for someone. That's fucked up. I've been having a lot of weird thoughts like that lately. But yeah, it's a kink I've been dreaming about. Like Harley Quinn and the Joker in Suicide Squad; I'll do anything to make him happy. DON'T JUDGEEEEEE.
I'll go home, finish my bachelor online, work while getting my masters and start my own practice. Fuck if I'm ever going to have kids though. He wants kids, I say I'll have kids, I won't have kids. I'll just fucking lie if that's my life. Whatever.
The thing is, right now, I want to self-destruct. I want to do everything I'm not supposed to do. I'm craving trouble and drama. Because I don't fucking care. I hope I die, I'll probably kill myself soon, but if I don't die, I want to destroy everything. I want to express my fucked up mind, I want to show off my insanity, because I truly believe I'm insane now. I mean, my therapist quit on me, and everyone says people with BDP are basically sociopaths. So let's run with it.
Maybe I don't even mean any of this stuff. Maybe I'll change my mind about everything tomorrow, or in an hour, or next week. I hate not knowing if what I think is how I actually think or not. Oh well, let's see what happens.
Not being afraid of death is dangerous. Not caring what happens to you and your body is troubling. Spitting in the face of your own life isn't normal or desirable. But here I am, take me or leave me.
A self-corrupted mind, and chosen insanity.
This is ghosts and guns; lust and love.
Let's get fucked up.
- Mint.
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