you-cant-remember

[you-cant-remember]

L + ratio + you’re not obsessed with me so i don’t care about you

[you-cant-remember]

w h y c a n t i m o v e o n f r o m p e o p l e

[you-cant-remember]

shUT UP I KNOW. I KNOW. I KNOWTHEYRE BETTER. I KNOW YOU FOUND A REPLLCEMENT. SHUT UP SHUT U SHUTT UPPPPPPWHY DO I CARE ABOUT YOU I HAVE SOMEBODY MUC H FUCKING BETTER THAN YOUUUUUU SHUT UUUUUPOPPPP0PPP

[you-cant-remember]

the way someone’s slightest change in tone or them getting a bit angry at me genuinely tears my heart apart and makes me feel so betrayed. and i hate that i’m called over emotional or that i’m overreacting because it may seem like nothing to you or something you wouldn’t think about twice but god it plays in my head over and over like a broken radio.

[you-cant-remember]

BPD is so incredibly lonely in a way that I don’t think others understand. They only ever hear a watered down version of the truth because I’m so afraid of being honest. Somebody cancels plans and I respond an hour later telling them it’s okay, omitting the fact that I just spent the last 60 minutes cycling between rage and despair thinking that they don’t care about me anymore. Somebody tells me of their new home or engagement or success and I just smile and congratulate them while hiding the disgusting bitterness I feel that they have something I never will. Somebody mentions their other friends or their significant other or tells me they can’t do something because they have plans with someone else and I just have to nod and pretend it’s okay as if I’m not being drowned in intense jealousy and panicking that I’m going to be replaced. I never mention the blinding rage, the violent fantasies, the hatred for people I’ve never met. I never mention the constant desire to do horrible things to my body, or the unnamed emotion that follows me around whispering that I’m no longer afraid of being abandoned but simply waiting for it to happen. I never mention them, because the moment I do, I feel so much guilt. It’s not their fault or their burden to carry. They never asked to know how suicidal I am, or how afraid I am all the time. It would be so cruel to dump it all on them. So I bite my tongue and hold my breath and silently wish I wasn’t so broken. I turn up my music and cry the whole way home, knowing that I can never be loved in my entirety because my entirety includes the pieces of me that will tear others apart.

[you-cant-remember]

what if i had sharp claws and i used them to carve my name into your skin? what if i had fangs so i could rip through your flesh and drink your blood? tell me youd like me then, i want to be your favorite monster

[you-cant-remember]

do you love them more than me?

is that why you ignore me for hours?

why am i not enough for you?

will i ever be enough?

[you-cant-remember]

the overwhelming urge to tear through your skin with my teeth and drink your blood

[you-cant-remember]

I could carve your name into my arm to prove my love for you <3

[you-cant-remember]

i thought i could count on you, i thought you were safe

why would you let me down like that?

[you-cant-remember]

you ever be in immense pain and suffering but nobody would ever notice because you keep a blank face about everything dissociate on demand and spend most of your day feeling numb and surreal

[you-cant-remember]

i want the high again. i want to be looked at with sorrow and pity. i will break my own wings, just for somebody to gently touch them. for somebody to repair them. i want to pour salt in all my wounds, and rip them open, and hurt myself all i can with an audience just to watch. i want to be seen. i want to feel like my mental pain is translated into the physical. i want my arms to be bruised. it feels so good. i want my entire body to break, and shut down, i want you to kiss my wounds, i want you to hug me tenderly, and tell me never to do it again. i love the comfort. its addicting. i'll cut my heart out just to feel you place it there again. i'll tear off all of my nails, watch them grow, and tear them off again. i don't want to recover. i want the hurt. i'm addicted to the hurt, i can't help wanting more. the other wounds healed too quick. i wanna laugh, and watch the blood bubble. don't deny me such a pleasure♡♡

[you-cant-remember]

bpd: dont ask for help you will just bother them again ur already an inconvenience they dont care they just feel sorry for you

me: u right

[you-cant-remember]

An ex once called me a “golden retriever girl” cause she loved that I was always ready to do stuff for her and that I always thought about her and showed that. When she broke up with me, she said I was “too much” because I wanted to spend more time together and the paranoia was unbearable, but she stayed longer than she normally would’ve cause nobody ever made her feel that important.

Dating with BPD in a nutshell. They love the affection, attention, and ego boosts. They hate putting in effort to understand and work with BPD.

[you-cant-remember]

it kills me inside everyday that my inner-child has always only wanted to be loved, understood, and cared for, but hasn’t gotten the chance to feel that at all from anyone or anything. is it truly too much to ask for? to be loved? is it? i genuinely don’t know at this point.

[you-cant-remember]

i failed as a student, i failed as a friend, i failed as a child, i failed as a person. no matter what i do, i always fail fail fail

[you-cant-remember]