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.