you are my soulmate, even if i’m not yours. it fucking sucks to not be able to hold you and call you mine. you don’t understand how much you break me, and i’ll never tell because you’re too beautiful to be guilty for hurting me.. it’s okay, i’m used to it. for some odd reason i like the pain.
what if someone actually fell in love with me and didn’t leave me because i was seen as crazy.. what if
still thinking back to when i was talking to a counselor and he said “don’t call yourself mentally ill, call it mentally challenged” sir wtf.. i still can’t wrap my head around how he actually said that to me
i spend my days waiting for a love you will never give me, why can’t i let the thought of you go.. it’s never going to happen yet i can’t fucking get it through my thick skull that i’m not the one you want. look at me, i never will be.
living with bpd is like god someone please love me because i physically can’t love myself. i need the validation of someone thinking i’m a good person; that i’m worthy of love because the only thing i can think about right now is how much i deserve to be run over by a semi truck
when i imagine happiness, it’s always with you. when i imagine comfort it’s in your arms. when i imagine security, it’s you taking care and protecting me. you are the one that sees every part of me and doesn’t run away, please keep me forever.
i’m turning 18 in two days and the fact that thirteen year old me thought i would be dead by now, i think is one of the saddest things about mental illness. i never thought id make it to 18, eight-fucking-teen because of how fucked i am as a person and all the bad shit that happened to me as a child. this is one of the worst parts of mental illness, having to explain how it’s a miracle you’re still alive. after so many attempts i’m still here.
i’m only loved by you when i’m useful and lately you don’t need me
when the abilify kicks in i’m like @_@
i hate how i always come running back to you