Hurt

Borderline personality disorder

I hate myself for making mistakes.
I hate myself for hurting people.
I hate myself for having borderline personality/bipolar disorder.
I hate myself for being an attention seeker because of BPD.

Sometimes
I think it would be best to end my life
Right here!
Right now!
Pill bottle on the bedside table, song in my ears, note under my pillow
so that I can’t hurt anyone anymore.

I keep
fucking
hurting
people.

The people I care about.
The people I love, as much as I hate that word.

Lately
I feel like a trap.
I lie in wait.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, but
people step too close
and my jaws snap
and people are hurt badly.
Then someone resets me
and it starts all over again.

So don’t come near me.
Don’t get close to me.
Don’t get inside my head.
For God’s sake, don’t get near my heart.

Because I can hurt you.
And no matter how much I care
no matter how much I love you
no matter how much I don’t want to hurt you

In all likelihood
eventually
I will.
I hate myself for being manipulative because of BPD.
I hate myself for exaggerating things because of BPD.

Basically, I hate myself for having a disorder.

HeavenH

I didn’t want to tell you guys this, because it’s kind of super bad, but yeah. I have borderline personality disorder (BPD). I hate that I have it. I hate that it makes me hurt people. I hate that it makes me blow everything out of proportion. I hate that I can never see the grey area in anything.
I hate BPD more than I hate myself.And that means a LOT.

Advertisements

Words

Words maybe strong and have a lot of meanings…. but as long as I know what’s true about me

Words don’t hurt me

If you cross the line, then I will payback in kind to your harsh words

I know what’s true, I know what’s a lie

I know who I am

No matter what you say

Words will never hurt me

You lie through your teeth just to hurt someone else

Did someone stab you with harsh words?

No need to do the same to someone

Try using kind words

Words have a lot of meaning

If you us the right ones

Then no one will have the need for harsh and painful words

Words_by_with_accusing_eyes

“What’s Happiness?”

“What’s Happiness?”

It’s not here, that’s what it is.

Standing on top of the highest building overshadowing the city,

I glance beneath on the thousands of feet under

As I bit my lip,

I do not see this supposed happiness, anywhere.

Someone hammered this quote into my head:

“Airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls.

The walls of hospitals have heard more prayers than the walls of churches.”

Now this stinging headache tells me that this planet is all it’s cracked up to be

That a bogus smile is plastered all over this planet.

And we should never let this pseudo merriment falter, or else.

Riddling whispers want to drag me back in to the concept that

True feelings and integrity is nothing but a myth, a sham, a con, a joke.

Those who believe otherwise in that missing ray of hope,

Shall be crushed and eaten by the foolish thought of it.

That fake smile is our line of defense.

Which is why I’m barely standing here in desperation

Searching for pure gaiety, maskless faces, untainted souls.

Instead all I see is conditioned bliss, beautiful facades, crooked smiles.

People everywhere held their broken hearts close,

Petrified for it to be shattered, disintegrated.

Seems strenuous to maintain a strong pulse.

That lonely girl at school, she could have been a rock star,

If not being poured of Law homework that discontinued her dream.

That geeky nerd could have enjoyed being outgoing,

If not for the constant bullying that zipped up his personality.

That old aged janitor could have spent the last of his years smiling,

If random acts of kindness like a simple “Hello” didn’t cease to exist,

But it’s too late now since he retired to the afterlife.

The ignored, belittled, discriminated could have tasted happiness,

If not for the gnawing looks from people who are “proper” and “normal”;

If the LGBTQIA aren’t treated as a bunch of diseased and confused pricks demanding for attention;

If the delicate souls with serious mental illnesses weren’t called crazy retarded twats;

If the different and gifted weren’t demeaned as weird queers and lunatics for expressing individuality.

Basically the “proper and normal” hold up their noses high while the “abnormal” hide in their shadows, in tears

Tired, no, afraid of being themselves.

What about the high nosed privileged category?

They don’t seem very content at their lives too.

Stress, expectation and work leech on them, sucking them dry.

They need to be studious for college scholarships,

They need to be diligent for their plate of potatoes,

They need to graft for their children’s shelter,

They need to endure for their parents’ sake,

They need to put on masks and choose the right emote

Hold their breathings and grit their teeth because they’re underlings

Yelling and puffing out steam at petty details because they’re superiors

A normal life is not a walk in the park it seems.

Nope, it’s not here.

I couldn’t find it.

Happiness turned into fairy tales leaving everybody sobbing in the dark.

I ache for people.

That leaves me wondering what if…

Just what if I slipped?

From this rooftop with this newfound courage to end it all?

Plenty of reasons feed this dangerous thought,

What’s life if living is all it’s cracked up to be?

Why can’t we know what happiness is without knowing what sadness is?

Why should we continue to coo ourselves with further lies?

When one step from this building edge could lead us to…

I stepped back and sighed.

I guess I’ll just keep on searching.

Just Dreams…

A_Dream

In the future I want to love and be loved. I want to marry and grow old with her. I don’t want to fear my heart being decimated. I want someone to let me hold them all night and forgive me if I snore or talk in my sleep. I want to be more comfortable with her than I am in my own skin. I want to trade stories about all our scars and memorize every freckle. I want to be accepted for all my mood swings, negative qualities, and weird quirks. I want to lay in her lap and look up at her while she strokes my hair. I want to learn about her culture. I want to hold her hand in public and not care if other people are looking. I want to try hard to be all that she deserves. I want to be close to her parents. I want to live next door to my best friend and her family. I want to have a cute puppy or two running around the house. I want to run away with her and raise children. I would promise to do better than my parents. I want to teach our kids all about life, acceptance, their bodies, old music, and more. I want to play pretend with them and build forts with blankets. I want to encourage healthy eating and exercise, but teach them to love their body. I want them to learn everything I know and more. I want them to speak multiple languages and feel proud of that. I want to send them to good schools and give them the best education. I want to take them on vacations to see the world. I want to let them decide their own religion. I want to talk to them and guide them through their hardships. I don’t want our kids to get picked on because of me. I want to shield them from hate from teachers and the school children that pick on people. I don’t want them to know what mommy used to do when she got sad, stressed, or angry. I don’t want them to ask why my body has so many straight line scars. I don’t want them to ask where their grandparents or aunt and uncle are. I don’t want them to have my genes. I don’t want them to ever feel the way I have. I don’t want to feel like that ever again. But then I wonder if this is all just wishful thinking. Doubt floods my mind and washes away these thoughts. I drown out my dreams and I hear the internal voice speak again, saying nobody will love me and that I’m stupid for having hope. It’s another struggle with reality, but in the back of my mind this fantasy scenario plays and continues to elaborate and gives me something to live for. But maybe they are just dreams.

I hit wall

Stars are circling my head.I’m confused and dazed. A pain is shooting across the top of my head.

wall_hit_by_alexblue0-d587g9vhitting_a_brick_wall_by_username6-d31684w

I’ve hit a wall. Why can’t I keep going, this wall feels like it was put up at the last minute.I didn’t see it and now I’ve crashed. I’ve gone down this way before and the road was clear. Now these obstacles in the way are making my life so much harder. What was once a clear smooth road now feels like bumps, holes and now this wall. This 20 foot wall I can’t climb it, I cant walk around it. What can I do to continue on, I feel helpless, my breath is short and my chest feels constricted. As I brush off the daze and my headache subsides I get nervous, depressed and worried will I be able to get to the other side will I have to turn back will I be stuck….

You__ve_Hit_Your_One_Wall