I can feel the wave of intense emotion crashing just behind my skin and I know that soon it will overtake me. Soon I will be choking on the salty water, flooding my airways with suffocating depression.
I know this comes, I know it’s a part of the process. I can only fly so high for so long, but it’s like every time I forget the immensity of it all. I recall thoughts only days ago, “perhaps I’m not so sick”. Then it curls it’s sickening familiar fingers around my chest. I will become lost in this, I forget completely what happiness and hopefulness consists of.
I plead with the shot caller inside my head. Please, one more day? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll stay in bed twice as long this time, I promise. I know this pain is what you feed off of. I’ll give you it all tomorrow, I swear. Trust me.
I’m not listening to myself. My saline behind my eyes burn and the urge to medicate to unconsciousness burns brighter than I remembered it could. I’m losing the battle with my own mind.
I am unhappy with myself right now. I can’t explain what came over me the other night besides that it felt as if another person stepped inside my head and filled it with rage. I remember fighting with my parents, but the exact trigger has escaped me, if I ever really contemplated it at all. Death threats were screamed and accusations hurled. I told them they were the reason I have borderline personality disorder, that raising me in a bar fucked me up.
My mother’s response? “A lot of people are alcoholics now a days, it’s not a big deal”. I don’t remember much after that either besides more blood curdling screams escaping my lips. I barricaded myself in my room, as if they would try to come up and check on me. Spoiler alert, they didn’t. And then it happened. I relapsed. In the past three years I have cut myself maybe ten times. I can’t account for the other ways I harm myself, as those are much more common place. I bite and scratch and tare and bruise, but I hardly ever cut. That night I cut myself six times on my thigh and jabbed a pin so hard into my wrist bone that it got stuck, twice. It’s still sore. I couldn’t really move it for an entire day.
The physical pain is nothing compared to the guilt and shame I feel. Shame that I suffer from such a strong inability to control my emotions. Guilt that I don’t try harder to hang on to my sanity as I watch it slip away. I just let go and let the rage boil my blood til it’s all I can see. Til I have no filter, til I’m spilling out every painful word I can muster up in my convoluted mind.
I wish I wasn’t me.
I am bursting with excessive passion and nothing excites me
Pinpointing every emotion bleeding from my temporal lobes while fighting through the fog of dullness
There is no energy left in my body as I am crawling up the walls with anxious uncertainty
I feel nothing while I am feeling everything
Captivate as I evade, center of attention in the corner
Heart exposed and full while the door is locked from the inside
indebted to those who love me with conviction that I am scorned
I am the true walking contradiction that has been contemplated for decades
In my feverish attempts to lose weight I’ve picked up running and with this comes the responsibility of buying running sneakers. As I pulled up to the store I knew that she would be in there, and I half hoped that she would and the other half hoped she wouldn’t. As with anything, one half won, and there she was standing outside with a cigarette. We said our pleasantries. I asked how other acquaintances were, how she had been, but we never said her name. Neither of us acknowledged that our relationship was based purely on our mutual best friend who is dead now. We just pretended and I walked on.
Inside I knew the string that connected me to her was always going to be Megan, it would always be something we didn’t want to talk about. I mentioned another friend, she said they hardly talked. I never knew two people closer before. I always knew she was the glue that held every person she knew together, but I guess I’d never thought I’d see the aftermath of that glue dissolving. Sometimes it scares me when I feel like she was never real. I haven’t heard her laugh in so long, held her hand or poured her a drink. It feels like she never existed sometimes and that hurts me. I have to dig deep into my head to hear her voice reverberate off my skull. It’s the only place I’ll ever know it again. Her face is all but gone from my memory, I hungrily stare at the pictures I keep pinned to my door trying to hold it in my brain. It drips through my recall like water through my fingers.
Have you ever fought back tears so wrought with anger and resentment that they physically hurt your eyes? Do you sometimes feel like the pain inside you could burn down an entire city if you just let go for a moment?
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. That’s the best way I can describe it because when you have borderline personality disorder and you wake up on the wrong side of the bed that side is indisputable, literal hell. Everything is skewed from the moment I open my eyes. I don’t see the world with anything but anger and hatred. Nothing looks right, it’s all a cleverly devised plot to make me rip the skin from my skull. The tiniest thing can set me into a whirlwind of revulsion. No, I’m actually lying when I say that, nothing happened at all.
My boyfriend said to me this morning that if I couldn’t stop being so cranky he’d have to take me home. Some of you might see that as rude, but to me I think it’s downright sweet. In actuality what he should have said is, “You’re being an absolutely crazy bitch for no reason so get yourself together or go home”. He’s right too, and I know he is. I know my contempt and my frustration are unwarranted and yet that doesn’t make them feel any less real. A wise friend on here asked me the other day if I knew what she meant when she said she could not keep up with herself. Well here I am, unable to reel myself in. I think it’s worse when you’re cognizant of the irrationality of your thoughts and your emotions. When the anger seething through your brain is unfounded and you know that. It only reinforces the certainty that you are in no way in control of your self or your emotions.
I can’t help how I feel and I fear I never truly be able to. The feeling sickens me to no end.
A new video that describes my reactions to emotionally stimulating situations. I hope you guys enjoy and please subscribe!