life with bpd is always trying to fill a huge hole in your chest. you spend your life looking for a cure that doesn't really exist
i don’t know who i am anymore, there’s too many versions of “me”
i think the solution to my problems is to just kms
every time I decide I’m done with you, for some godforsaken reason, I dream about you the same night
I don’t know if I’m in love or if I’m mentally sick. All I know is the gaping hole and aching I feel in my chest fucking hurts.
I wanna talk to you so badly but then why does every conversation with you taste bitter and make me feel sick
Idk normalize wanting nothing to do with your fp and hating them and then wanting them to stay
I will be like "I'm fine" and then another fucking event will occur
To avoid the sick feeling I get from talking to people about my feelings I am vomiting them out here, enjoy.
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