Dear Diary,

I guess this is it. Everything is finally coming to an end. I say finally, because the pain has consumed not only my body but my mind, for all of my life. Peace is all I want to feel. I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt at peace.

I feel like my exit will be my peace. The afterlife will be my peace. I’ve had an image in my mind of what it will be like, or if I even believe in it. Often times, I debate reincarnation. I have a narrative in my head for all possibilities for what happens after. Yes, I am that uptight that I need a game plan for my potential afterlife. It’s similar to being the person who gets invited to dinner, but has to look up the menu, the parking situation, and how late they’re open, so you know when you can make your great escape. It’s me. I’m that person.

In the case of reincarnation, I tell myself that we are all living all of these lives simultaneously and you will come back across timelines. In one solid “lifetime” I will be you and you will be me. I will also be John F. Kennedy and Lady Gaga. They are all me and I am you. Does this make sense? Once you’ve lived every life that ever was and ever will exist, you kind of “graduate” into something larger. Something like a god.

In the case of dying and going to a type of “heaven,” I see “heaven” to be whatever you want it to be. If it’s spending every moment with the love of your life on a park bench, then that’s your heaven. If you want to spend every moment hiking through forests and mountains, then that’s your heaven. Even if it’s going to your 9-5 every day and coming home to a loving family and doing it all over again the next day, that’s your heaven.

I think about death because I have to.

I think about death to prepare myself.

I think about death for comfort.

I have a terminal illness that is not often talked about.

I have borderline personality disorder.

I cannot allow myself to live like this anymore. Luckily, we live in a world where with a specific and lengthy psychological evaluation, I can elect to end my life via physician assisted suicide.

This is the part of the story where the audience is divided. I want to document my journey and give the world a chance to understand this diagnosis from our perspective. How your brain is like a torture device and the thoughts are what rip you apart.

Stay tuned, diary.