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What does it feel like to have histrionic personality disorder

Looking in the mirror for long periods of time, observing yourself, your body, your makeup.

You don’t think about what you see, no, the thoughts that flood your mind are: what would people think of me wearing this makeup, this outfit?

Would they think I am beautiful, would they look at my outfit, admire me and go buy those very clothes after being influenced by me?

You love, even get off on thinking about what other people are thinking while they look at you, observe you, watch you.

You are only seen when other people see you.

Only loved when other people love you.

Only here when other people acknowledge you. If they don’t, then you may just cease to exist, and we can’t be having that.

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Everything is articulated, put on, manipulated, dramatic.

Everything you put on your body, it is all for a reason.

Every little action, movement, bat of the eyelashes, over emphasised and perfected like a scene in a movie, all for attention, all for that soul consuming need that is never fully satisfied.

You hate this way of life so much, it can be a burden. You hate how the hunger for attention gnaws at you day after day, and once you get your fix, and your needs are met, you know that it will only last for so long. Like a drug addict on their come down, you know you will need to get attention quickly, you need to be seen. There is no other way.

You hate it with all your heart, but secretly deep down, you love it, you adore it, you live for it, and would quite possibly die for it.

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On a lighter note: I’m sweet, damn cute, easy going, straightforward, smart and everything else a gentleman should be. (You can ask ‘someone’) . . On the other hand: I’m an entrepreneur, A Sophisticated listener, An X in an indeterminate equation. Follow me on Instagram @lukingtel.

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