BORDERLINE BITCH HOW TO DERAIL YOUR LIFE and have fun doing it.

Before we begin, this isn't actually a how-to guide. This is an explorative collection of anecdotes and horror stories to tell you how not to compose yourself. I am a living, breathing testimony of poor choices. This is my life, with borderline personality disorder.

I don't know when it began, but the budding signs of questionable behaviour was there, in my gingham school dress and ankle socks, my jelly shoes, it was there marinating my being, preparing me for never ending turbulence. The patchwork of my childhood is often blamed, but who knows really what made my emotive reactions and mood instability what they were. I remember hiding in the toilet stuffing my entire packed lunch down there in a fit of spite, a rice krispie square, a fruit winder, my sandwich. I was hiding from my classmates as I had been sent out of the room for entering a classroom noisily. Attention seeking, wanting some form of reaction from my tiny peers, well here it was, burning hot shame. My anger buzzed from me, I was inconsolable. I pretended I got sick and demanded for my mother to collect me, a regular occurrence during my time at Norton Free Primary School.

My ways left me without friendships, always needing to be popular, but never quite making it. Falling in and out of love with children that wouldn't be allowed playdates with me, always scruffy and shouting or crying. At home I was conflicted.