theaccidentseason

Latest Posts by theaccidentseason

Finally finding out what’s wrong with me: 😃

Finding out it’s incurable: 🤡

When he’s a red flag but you need him

You know what’s hard to swallow?

When you thought you had it all figured out. Not life, per se, but yourself - ever changing or not.

When you thought you had figured out the root of your problems, and praised yourself for being so darn self aware.

And then, something flips, the moment you give in to vice that you thought you had uncovered the secrets of. Why you drink, why you smoke, why you can’t seem to stop.

You thought you’d figured it out - why it pulled you in, and then, nothing makes sense anymore.

The moment of realising that you don’t know your demons, you don’t know why your eyes seem to always gaze back at the glass of wine next to you, and then the bottle. Why it seems to call out to you, louder than anything else in the room - a scream in an endless sea of whispers.

You give in, because the absolute soul crushing feeling of once again being wrong about yourself is worse than faking the reasons, but you know you’ll make up another. And you’ll believe it.

And the cycle will repeat.

"Are you ok?" I'm actually tired bro. From the bottom of my heart I'm tired

sorry i cant hang out i forgot how to mimic human like behaviour

There’s a loneliness that words can’t reach, and that’s where I live most of the time

My bpd symptoms aren't that bad if I don't care about anything, or let anyone get close to me, or leave my house or

Sorry, I didn't text back. Everything has been a lot lately.

I only post on here when I’m drunk or high.

I feel stuck between life and death, a sort of purgatory. My mind stuck in a realm of fiction and daydream. Is this normal? Surely it can’t be.

I see people around me, going on about their daily lives, the second I bring up the feeling of derealisation, they seem to shrug, unsure of what I’m speaking about.

It is an odd thought, to wish so badly you could rewrite your brain, and yet, another side of you thinking ‘but what will be you without me?’.

And so I sit in purgatory, surrounded by books, movies, character ai…

Never fully there. Never fully aware hat they are living in reality.

"How are you never hungry?!"

Babe, you do know I have a literal ED right?

Perhaps it shouldn't, but it does.

It pisses me off when people, especially those close to you, are aware of certain things. That you were nearly sent to a centre for an ED, one that you've had for seven years. One which causes a fistfight to occur in your brain everyday of your life. They know these things, and yet, they don't understand that their words hurt. Because the second you (how dare you) pick up weight, all of a sudden its their goal in life to make it known that you have.

As someone who has grown up with an underactive thyroid, developing an ED is not uncommon. It is 10x more difficult to lose weight, and often this is just the outcome. And as soon as you hit your goal, something could happen that throws your whole body out of whack - for me, it was a new job. The stress causes hormones to go crazy, and in turn, thyroid levels to go down; drastically. And this leads to weight gain - unintentional and uncontrollable weight gain. And yet, those who know the story, still feel the need to rub it in - that something happened that was out of my control. That my body itself, hates me as much as I hate it.

"Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?"

When you need to work from home and still live with your parents.

And all of your safe foods are at work, and you just sit there with raging thoughts of “What am I going to eat? Shit. If I don’t have something small and low calorie then I’m going to binge, and if I eat anything in this house I’m going to binge, and if I -“

sorry for being distant all of a sudden, it was either that or screaming and crying and saying irreversibly damaging things to you after you ignored my feelings in favour of yours once again (I can't tell if I'm overreacting or not)

“have you ever just cried because you’re you”

why are you giving up when the only thing you’ve ever wanted is to be skinny

Random vent, but I hate the way BPD is romanticised in the media.

Babe, it is not something to romanticise, it isn’t a trendy hard-shelled girl in a horror movie, or a sarcastic depressed teen in a coming of age series.

It is anger. It is a rage that fills your body to the point where you can’t hear yourself over your heart beating at the pace of a Metallica drum solo.

It is trying to keep it together over and over, and falling apart over something as simple as your shirt getting caught on a door handle.

It is hitting yourself in the head out of anger. It is ripping up clothes, it is punching the nearest thing to you, it is tears falling down your cheeks while you scream out of rage.

It is numb. It is sitting in the same position for hours because there’s no point in getting up. It is boredom and tunnel vision. It is being trapped behind a screen in your mind, watching your life fly past, nothing feeling real.

It is abusing substances to feel something other than nothing. Something other than anger. A fleeting moment of euphoria and ego boost.

It is pushing everyone away, and going silent. It is pulling everyone back in with love bombs the second you feel like they’re going to leave you.

It is compulsive lies, even over little things. It is defending yourself even when you know you’re in the wrong. It is crying during a fight to turn the situation around, turning yourself into the victim, making endless excuses.

It is knowing all of these horrible things are a part of your personality. Knowing that what you hate the most about yourself, is stuck with you.

It’s not romantic, it’s not cinematic, it’s not poetic. I wish it was, but it’s not.

Quiet BPD in a nutshell:

“I can’t take it out on anyone else, so I take it out on myself”

“I’m scared of the day I explode”

“My knuckles are bruised and bleeding from punching my walls, but at least your face is fine”

if home is where the heart is, I can confidently say that I am homeless.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, from a letter to Jane Williams written in February 1823, featured in The Letters of Mary Shelley

yeah, sorry i exhibited symptoms of the disorder i told you i have. it will happen again because i have that disorder and will continue having it. hope this helps!! 🫶🫶🫶

Me: “I’m hungry”

Also me: *grabs vodka and joint instead*

A playlist for the BPD girlies who love the manic-euphoric feeling of a night club

Oh and yes… It’s also kinda how I imagine a Slytherin party… Totally not a freak fan girl.. ha ha… sigh

Also, Bill Skarsgard? Ummm yes.

once i learn how to properly communicate and understand my own emotions it’s over for you bitches