So, the other day I tried explaining to my boyfriend what dp is and what it feels like. It felt good to talk about it, but at the same time, it was also bad because he looked at me like I had a serious disease that needs cured. I guess for people with intense dp, it would probably feel like that, but my dp isn't that bad. He said I needed to fix it, which is better said than done. I just have no motivation to get rid of something that isn't killing me.
Yesterday, I got a job. The End. I think you know how the rest goes. I'm terrified. I'm doing it for the money and experience. I need to get used to working and being around other people. Luckily, I don't start working for a bit yet, hopefully, but I do know I got the job.
Last night, for the first time, I really thought about death. If nothing happens after death, and that's the end of you...you don't exist anymore. You don't think or feel or anything. I want to exist and I want to feel alive. This is probably going to be a new fear of mine. Ugh.