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you have been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
She's about my height - 5'9"
Besides the ability to read books, the only other option is to socialize by the look of it.
"And how are we feeling today?" The words make me cringe. I don't think I'll ever get comfortable with them. It's always like a knife being stabbed into my gut. Ironically, that happened on my fifteenth birthday. Granted it was a butter knife so it didn't get very far. Yet this question is still more painful than the physical abuse I endured.
"I'm going to prescribe you some long-lasting pain relief. I also spoke to Dr. Smith and he agrees that if you would like to try some type of anti-anxiety medication, we can also prescribe that." "I don't want any," I tell him, readjusting the gown. "I'm not anxious." Obviously I'm anxious. If you looked up the word in the dictionary, there's probably a picture of me next to the meaning. But the last thing I want is to be doped up on some chemically altering drugs. "Well, if you change your mind, just ask. Perhaps you'd like to read some of the pamphlets about the different options. If you're
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that's a straight lie. They’d most likely put her on SSRI’s and they could make things worse plus kill her sex drive

