My life feels like a battle ground. Everyone seems on edge. I know this is not good for me. Call it BPD or empathy, I can feel it. Thick and stuffy like bad cigar smoke in the air. I am a stranger in this place. I just need a place to call my own and I won’t have it for years. Not even a corner to write. How can I not write, I feel as if madness is my only answer but then again it is my answer.