Part of my story...

It's all so weird. Knowing how I grew up, the situations I've been through, how much I've struggled, and how far I've came. Even though I've came a long way in my life.. There's so much more left for me to concur. I'm not even half the person I could and should be. I should be so much more then I am. I never thought I would ever be "the crazy girl," but I am. That's me. The girl who had a rough childhood, who self injured herself over and over, who still thinks about doing it to this day. The crazy girl who has anxiety and depression... A pill tray full of pills to keep me sane. I hide myself behind text. I can say anything I truly mean behind text, but when it comes to being around people, instant shut off mode kicks in and I get awkward and silent. The crazy girl who freaks out over the tiniest things that shouldn't matter. The girl who makes up stories and believes they happened. Who screams in her sleep and can't decide if something actually happened or if I dreamt it. The girl who thinks nothing of herself and has the lowest of low self esteem. The girl with the fake smile and the I'm fine, thank you's. I don't know how to change that. I feel a lot of me thinks I'd be happier with a different body, but shouldn't I love myself for who I am?! I'm definitely not the skinny anorexic girl, but I'm not normal either. Its not like I sit on the couch all day and shove my face with chocolate and chips, no its the fact that I'm stressed out to the max all the time and being that crazy girl. I've been physically sick for over two years. My tummy hurts every day. Feels like someone is ripping out my insides. The only thing that makes it half better is my ulcer meds and sleep(obviously cuz you can't feel it while you're sleeping) I'm the crazy girl and everyone knows it. I have no friends and everyone thinks I'm mean and bitchy. Well truth is, I'm fucking crazy and shy. I've lost so much in my life and done so many wrong things to make things worse all because I can't control my mind and what's real and what's not. The thing that makes me the most upset about it is the fact that no one believes I have a disorder. They think I choose to be this way. Who in their right mind would wanna be this way? I sure as hell don't and wouldn't wish it upon anyone. It's a hard life. It really is. No one realizes how much I struggle. I'm pretty good at faking. Today at work my assistant manager asked what my tattoo said, and I said "no lies, just love" she asked why I chose it, I said, "because I have a hard time believing in myself. I don't think much of me and I'm trying to learn to love myself and not feed myself lies." She was in utter shock when I said that. The look on her face was filed with worry and sadness for me. -- I don't want people to be sad for me. That's not why I'm telling my story. I tell my story because I'm a survivor. Because it feels good to let go, to tell someone, even if its the internet, I feel some tension release. Even though I struggle with my issues every second of my life, I still am a survivor. I get stronger everyday. I may not have a perfect life, but I'm glad I decided not to take it away.