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. 


Some nights I like to have deep, thought provoking conversations with myself. I tend to do this while in the shower until the water runs cold (this gives me approximately twenty minutes to figure my shit out).
So anyways, tonight I was thinking, “What is the point? What in the fuck is the point of life?”. Because with all do respect, unless we do something completely outstanding, does anything really matter?

I’m assuming that if I died tomorrow, I would be missed for maybe a year and then remembered until those in this lifetime are also gone. Harsh? Yes… but that’s honestly the truth. And that’s the truth for most of us.
Say you don’t have children, your belongings are disposed of or sold off when you die. Everything you worked your whole life for is auctioned off to some weirdo in Kentucky or something. Those knick-knacks and trinkets you worked so hard to collect… either garbage or the newest addition to Good-Will.
And unless you do something exceptional in life, you most likely won’t pass anything viable on to the next generation. I’ll tell you what… those dreams you had of being featured in a middle-school history book definitely won’t be fucking happening. The gold-plated statues and plaques carrying on your accomplishments will just frankly never exist.

I won’t have children, I won’t be featured in any history books, and most likely won’t pass anything viable on to the next generation. So why is life so stressful?

Tonight I think I’ve decided with myself that the end-goal of life is basically pointless. We’re all going out one way or another and eventually the Earth will just shit out and die too. However, I do believe that life is meant for three things: strong relationships, overall happiness, and bad-ass experiences (surviving life is obvious and doesn’t count for this list).
We have one life (unless you believe in reincarnation and that’s a whole other rant). Therefore, I believe we just need to pack in as much bull-shit as we can within the years we have and find some damn good people to share those experiences with. That’s what life is all about.

Purposeful Survival

Sometimes I feel like life
is just some sick joke on all of us.

The purpose of humanity is to do one thing right?
We’re supposed to survive.
Yet here we are…
spending our entire fucking lives trying to do everything and anything
we can to make it to another day…
still knowing that we will eventually die.

But besides just surviving for however long we have…
I feel like everyone has a desire to leave some sort of mark
on this planet.
Maybe it’s children, relationships, ideas, music, art or just something miniscule
the next generation might have a use for or remember… anything at all.

And I don’t know about you,
but I have this deep desire to leave something behind
for this world after I’m gone…
to make my own mark.

I just worry that I won’t have enough time
to figure out what that mark is before I’m gone…