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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.
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”
need a change before i rip my skin off but i am trying to grow my hair out WHAT TO DO
like at what point do i stop blaming my BPD and start taking accountability-_-
smfh (so my feelings hurt)
i am… i uhhhh… well what if i say… AHHHHHHHH
like maybe i am the dumbest person in the world but at least weed gummies and bubble baths exist! and also ******* ****** too!!!
oh god i feel so fucking dumb
i am sooooo normal. nobody is as normal as me!!!
lol LOLLLLL Lol lolol
am i stupid? maybe idk. some things are easier left alone. maybe i will quit my meds
i give so much of myself for everyone and expect nothing in return. when will i learn to love myself the way i love others )-:
i think i am splitting the hardest i ever have. why is BPD the hot girl mental illness i want PEACE