Please Don't Leave; When I Think You're Leaving My Head Gets Fuzzy And The World Caves In And My Heart

Having bpd is literally the worst thing ever. A mood swing can hit you literally anytime any second of the day. You’re literally at the mercy of this fucking illness. Does it care that two seconds ago you were having an amazing time with your friends? No. Does it care that no will understand why you’re frowning and sitting in a corner when you were literally laughing two seconds ago? No. It doesn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. Not one thing. It just consumes you. And makes you hate yourself for being like this because there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing.

please im so tired im just so fucking tired please just stop can everything stop im so tired im begging can it all stop

And you broke me in all the ways I loved you.

Ever want to kill yourself out of spite? To get back at the people who told you were fine when really you were not? To stick it to them? Or really just to drastically change the course of their lives like they did to you?

Just me?

when you're having a hard time and trying to reach out for support and suddenly you're a child again hearing "i'll give you something to cry about"

I’ll never be pretty enough

I’ll never be skinny enough

I’ll never be capable enough

I’ll never be funny enough

I’ll never be enough.

bpd is so unbearably lonely. you never feel like anyone loves you because they only care about the sanitized idea of you, the one you made up so people don't abandon you again. as soon as your messy symptoms show, suddenly you're not nearly as loveable. having bpd is to spend your whole life trying desperately to make yourself more palatable