#bpd guilt

[devoteddeer]

The average BPD moment when someone pushes you to react and then gets surprised/and or upset when you finally snap. Then in the end you’re the monster for reacting like the way you did.

[shouting-at-the-stars]

i feel like an animal dying in the road

[devoteddeer]

Controversial opinion:

Euphoria is one of the best feelings a person with bpd can experience in their life.

[devoteddeer]

No one talks about how being the most apathetic individual alive due to ur bpd can ruin relationships and how people view you like

please understand I’m not apathetic purely to you. I’m apathetic to everything. I’m apathetic to even wanting to live. The only reason I do anything half the time is because I have to. Not because I want to.

I don’t get a choice in living, in dying, I don’t get a choice so I go with the motions. If I care enough to try for you, then understand that’s the most passion you’ll get from me now of days

[devoteddeer]

I feel like a child at 22.

Unable to perform regular tasks that makes an adult.

I can’t remember to brush my teeth, to wash my face in the morning. I barely can bring myself to wash more than twice a week at most.

The world continues at its brutal neck breaking speed, how you’re falling behind it you don’t open up a ROTH IRA account, or how if you don’t monopolize all of your time in order to make a profit are you entirely reaching your full potential?

In a society where we are meant to be poets, artist, build boards, a walking conjunction.

I barely feel human, I barely feel me. I feel like a child wrapped in adult clothing. A 12 year old attempting to impersonate a 22 year old.

But it seeps through. It always does. And I’m stuck as a child once again in a room surrounded by adults.

I reach for childish ways to cope. As a kid I chose junk food and fanfiction until 4 am, crying in the bathroom at school when the world became too much.

But now as a child wearing a 22 year old skin I chose other ways to cope. When I walk into the liquor store or go into the Walmart, they don’t look at me.

They don’t look at the way my eyes dart from their face, or the fact I can’t stand still. The crude under my eyes from mascara from days before.

They see the ‘04 written on my drivers license. They don’t know my instructor gave me that because he pitied me. Nor did they know I barely passed.

They pass me the bottles of tequila and soju. The 90 dollar credit on my card burning into my pocket.

I’m nothing but a big kid in convincing enough makeup to get by everyday in life.

[devoteddeer]

Passive suicide in the way I wouldn’t move out the way if a car was barreling towards me. Like a deer in headlights I’d stay still and frozen.

I’m so tired of living a life where I’m stuck in a loop of constantly taking care of myself.

[devoteddeer]

I can take as much medication.

I can try all the therapies.

I can journal, reflect, and look into myself.

Nothing changed because in the end?

I’ll always hate myself for the things I never asked for.

[devoteddeer]

Devoted in the way

If she and I were deer crossing the I-75

And she would turn her head, frozen in the lock of the headlights coming our way

I would turn my head to look towards the bright lights by her side. Not budging. Not moving even if my body was to scream for me to otherwise do so.

I would know the end is near.

It is bright, harsh, speeding, and fluorescent.

But I can feel her near. Her breath by my side.

That’s is enough for me.