When i totally changed the blog design of my page, it was because i wanted to reflect the ‘new, improved me’ who saw the world through newly positive eyes and was determined to leave my past echos behind me. Who was i kidding? Having BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). [which i will write a separate blog about, sometime], i ought to know that my moods and everything about me is totally unpredictable, literally from one minute to the next. The idea was that i would have a new, clean look. I had written my blog previously in a totally different style page. It was soft, no hard lines and pastel colours. It was gentle on the eye. There, i wrote mostly about my appalling child sexual abuse as is evident in my earlier posts.


I decided that i wanted a new, crisp, clean look to my page and that i would leave my past behind me and write about other day to day subjects. Leave my past behind? Who the hell was i kidding? Now i find myself,still tied up with my past traumas and i’m back down the rabbit hole again. I feel as if i am in the middle of the escalators of Central London’s Underground, trying to run up the ‘down’ escalator while half the world seem to be sailing easily up the ‘up’ escalator. Then, a few minutes later i want to ride all the way up the ‘up’ escalator! So much for the new reformed me! 


Now i look at my blog page and see the crisp, straight lines dividing the bold, purple column and the clean white page on which i tell my story. For some, obviously underlying reason, i decided to soften the page with a pale pink, softly patterned right-hand column. But somehow my script seems sharp and fresh and i don’t feel so sharp and fresh inside. Inside, is the original, soft, vulnerable me who i guess i was trying to run away from. I have failed miserably. So where do i go from here? Do i write my innermost feelings on this crisp, white page, or do i find yet another design to reflect my current mood? I’m not good at coping with ‘change’ at the best of times. Somehow this feels like a forced smile while inside i am crumbling away, my emotions being like the face on a tragic,opera mask that you’d see on a West End stage. WHO AM I? I go up and down as if i were trapped in Roald Dahl’s great glass elevator.


I feel i mess people about, let them down, make them afraid of such an unpredictable mess such as me. I have less than a handful of friends in the real world and is any wonder why. They never know ‘who’ i am going to be next, which personality i will be? Which mask will i be wearing today?