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
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 hate how i always come running back to you
when i say i miss you— it means i miss when you used me for your own benefit, because then you at least gave me the love i wanted. i miss when you held me against you and held my hands, when you gave me the love i longed for. when you ended it, i swear i’ve never seen myself as more useless and vile as i have before. you ruined how i view my body, my insecurities that you told me i was nothing to be ashamed of. every time someone has loved me like this they’ve always left after they got what they wanted. i thought you were different. nothing has ever been about me, and the worst part of all of this is that i should be so upset and hate you for all of this. but it just makes me love you more. i’m absolutely vile. i crave the toxicity of you, even though you ruin the way i think and act. i can never get enough of you.
i want whatever the people who run at 6am have
am i the only one or do you ever just have one tiny insignificant thing happen to you and your immediate reaction is like-
TIME TO KILL MYSELF
i give the wrong people the right pieces of me and now i’m just a crushed soul. just waiting for someone to try to mend the crumbs of me that are left, to love me despite all the ruins, to cherish my broken soul and to be as obsessively in love with me as i will be for them
