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I hope one day i am brave enough to just end my life because I can’t take this anymore, I’m so fucking sick of being a fuck up no matter how hard I try it’s never fucking enough.

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this day, these last weeks, are too much. i just can’t cope anymore. i’m too exhausted to eat after work, my chest feels heavy, and my anti-anxiety meds don’t work anymore. i will just sleep through sunday again like last weekend and hope i miraculously die before facing another week

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when you’ve been depressed for so long that non-depressed people feel like a different species. like, some people just exist without constantly thinking about dying? they can actually maintain hobbies and relationships? they’re not too exhausted to function? they don’t spend half their day dissociating? they actually enjoy being alive? that’s crazy…

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did other people with a bpd parent experience this too?

the constant guilt trips about how you should be grateful because your physical needs were met, as if that made up for having to walk on eggshells every single day.

or the way love felt more like a reward for good behavior than something else.

i needed more than food and new clothes.

i needed a parent who didn’t punish me with weeks of silence because i upset them.

a parent who didn’t turn every disagreement into proof that i was selfish or ungrateful.

i needed someone who didn’t make my feelings feel like a personal attack.

someone who didn’t use love as a tool to control me.

but that’s probably the thing about having a bpd parent.

they’ll never admit—or maybe even understand—that we needed stability, safety, and unconditional love just as much as food on the table.

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coworker: are you doing anything nice this friday evening?

me: yeah, just visiting a friend [ i haven’t had a friendship in over 5+ years and will probably eat comfort food, watch series while obsessively looking up any minor physical symptoms i have, then fantasize about having an incurable disease and dieing in 2 months so i don’t have to work or exist anymore - or lie about my weekends to coworkers]

me: what about you?

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i wish my brain didn't constantly jump to thoughts of suicide over any small inconvenience. it's exhausting