Don't give me a bouquet of pale purple promises, give me something that lasts. Don't let me wilt away as time tries to fade and decay my existence in your mind. Give me a space, a spot, or a spare seat in your memory. Give me a small place where I may sit contently knowing that it's me you still remember.
The ledge I walk is a thin precipice, Of mental regressions and pure recklessness. One misstep and I fall into the direction, Of either extreme mania or depression.
My pain has always been prettier on paper... The way my tears land and make the ink bleed through the faded blue lines... The way my frustration smears the page into blurs of illegible letters and marbled designs... The way my notebook's corners are curled during the hours of countless sighs... And the way my fingers twist my misery... So that it's prettier than what's inside.
I know changes are inevitable, but to me they’re a death sentence.
If I haven’t already stated this to you all… I have Borderline Personality Disorder and it involves issues revolving around abandonment. So when I know changes in my life will happen, I experience an overwhelming amount of dread and anxiety… especially when losing someone is a possibility.
To me the idea of losing someone feels like my entire world is being wiped away. I feel like I don’t know how to function knowing they’ll be gone and that there’s no point in living without them in my life. It’s basically like an appendage has been forcibly removed from me and I’ve been told to just move on… like a metaphorical amputation. 😉
Now I’ve done the homework, the therapy, all the bullshit… and no matter what I tell myself… I struggle. I fucking struggle over and over and over… And now I’m here. Struggling once more.
I know (I fucking know) I need to worry less about being abandoned and focus more on trusting people to stay in my life… but pushing past the intrusive thoughts is seemingly impossible.
I guess what I really need to figure out is how to trust people to stay with me… Even though I feel underserved of that privilege…
I’ll take whatever advice/wisdom you all offer.
Like unwanted party guests the thoughts arrive, casually striding in together to fuck with my mind. They're compulsive, intrusive, and highly erratic, depressive, manipulative, and obscenely manic. They've had no invite or welcoming at all, yet they play in my head like a reckless free-for-all. They'll take what they can until they've had enough, while I watch from the corner sitting silently in disgust. For I can't get them out or exonerate their presence, so patiently I just wait for their eventual evanescence.
They pictured her unclothed more often than covered... As they mouthed all the words she knew would be uttered. Her pale freckled skin was consumed by their eyes... As they overlooked flaws and succumbed to her lies.
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