I became ill around age 15. The docs suspected I had some sort of psychotic disorder but never really labelled it. I lived with this unspecified, untreated condition until it royally ran my life into the ground. Looking back in hindsight, it suspect that what I actually suffered from was Borderline Personality Disorder.

From the ages of 15-30 I had a "life" of sorts, although I could never build proper foundations. I tried numerous avenues into finding some sort of purpose, but each time I failed and that part of my died with the failure and I was diminished a little more each time.

At age 31 I moved to a new town, leaving behind what little I had built for myself. What I moved into was worse than I had before. All the people I met were spiteful, arrogant and bullying. They destroyed what little self worth I still had and I became depressed like never before. I had been depressed in the past often. Usually it manifested as an intense fiery dread that would bring out a sort of desperation which motivated me into action, even if the results were often more harmful than helpful. But this was time it was different. I only felt a complete hopelessness that made any course of action seem ridiculous. As a last ditch attempt I sort out the mental health services, but that only made things worse.

I ended up being put under the care of a very evil woman who used my condition and situation to manipulate and extort me. Afterwards I reported her for malpractice, but with her being a big shot, and me being a nobody, it all got swept under the rug. It was at that point that my heart and mind became set in stone. I WAS nobody. Rules, both legal and social, weren't applicable to me. My thoughts and feelings were always wrong by popular opinion. I was an irrelevant minority.

So I shut myself away. That was three years ago. I've not really spoken to another person since then. I had a brief bit of communication with a girl overseas a while back over skype, and I had a chat with some old biker in a cafe about a year ago, but that's about all the socialisation I've had in that time. I got used to the isolation. But I don't feel alive. I don't feel much of anything, except a dull emptiness, inter spaced with pangs of longing for the past and rage at the world for alienating me so badly.

And that's where I am now. And frankly it all feels too big and too ruined to be able to be fixed. I don't really know where to turn from here.