Tag Archives: borderline personality disorder

Another Friday

Nausea, exhaustion, pain. I’m tired of feeling this way, of fighting each day & night these terrible thoughts. I hate this body – not only because it’s disgusting, but because it constantly hurts. What is it like to go through your days without each step, each breath you take, each slight move hurting? I can’t even try to imagine that; it must be soothing.

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ex·haus·tion

Getting out of bed is too much, pretending to smile is taking all I have.
I’m tired of walking and climbing through this life when my steps feel like nothing, but exhaustion. Why do I have to keep trying? I’ve died a long time ago, and this human shell of mine is impatiently waiting for its final resting place.


To whom it may concern

I am not what you need,
nothing
but darkness, a mere rain cloud.
Used to be called sunshine,
but even that had to end some time.

I am not what you need,
nothing
but an anchor pulling you down.
Wished I could be an angel, if only
for you, yet this demon cannot fly.

I am not what you need, but my
God,
I wish I was, wish I could be.
Still I fear that as much as I’d love
to be your happiness, I am not.

I am not what you need, but I am
here;
not for long, not forever. My life’s
curtain is falling
finally.


Not yours (Part 1)

Years of fighting,
still not enough.
Nights spend bleeding,
this life’s tough.

Demons in these minds,
tearing us apart.
People are watching,
thinking it’s art.

Pain’s not fascinating
despite words of charm.
These bruises not pretty,
just hell’s way of harm.

Don’t turn away,
when darkness appears,
these are our lives,
these are our fears.


Another Friday

The more I think about how awful my mood is (and how nothing seems to work to improve it), the worse it gets. It feels like there’s something stuck inside of my chest that’s trying to claw (scratch, push) its way out of me, making it difficult to breathe.

It hurts.

I hate that, next to everything else, I also feel like I have no idea who the fuck I am and that most of the time I cannot recognise my own reflection or even feel like I’m real. The pain, the bad, awful thoughts, the haunting demons following me around are there, are real, yes, but what about me? It’s like I’m not in this body; I’m here, but at the same time I’m not. I’m trapped somewhere else and can’t get out.


Perhaps it’s something else

I’m sad
because inside of me I’m constantly fighting,
losing
against the demons in my head.
While they are grinning,
tears are running down my face.

I’m sad
because their screaming is louder than my
pleading
for help; I am trapped, alone.
Poison is running through my veins,
my reflection is distorted.

I’m sad
because the darkness is me, and I am
afraid
of tainting you with my touch.
It is only a matter of time
until I have lost my worth.


03/03

It‘s Thursday afternoon already and I feel beyond miserable. My back, head, and joints hurt incredibly much, making it difficult to concentrate on anything at all. The deadline for a sort of exam alternative is on Monday and I haven‘t managed anything yet despite trying. As soon as I sit down to work on it, I get confused and come up with seemingly 10 different ways to solve the tasks, none of which seem to be the actual right one.

I‘m tired.
I don‘t want to care about uni anymore.

I feel like I‘m way past my due date. I should have managed my BA in three years, should have been done in 2014, but by now it‘s 2016 and I feel worse and still hate myself. I‘m stuck with flashbacks of times long gone and more often than not, I catch myself thinking about my younger self/selves.
I hate the fact that it‘s been more than 10 years of this, I hate that even after all these years I still can’t say that fighting is worth it.


Too fast, too much.

I know that it’s me. I’m the one who’s always wrong, who should be punished, who is worthless and doesn’t deserve anything but rejection. But my god. It still hurts. I want to be a better person. My god. I try so hard every fucking day. But it’s just not possible. I’m a monster, I’m disgusting. I’m not supposed to be loved. The nightmare that one day e v e r y o n e will leave me WILL come true, I know it. I just do. And on the one hand I am trapped between fearing that day, fearing the pain, the burning fire from within that is trying to turn me into nothing but ashes, and on the other hand, that day might equal comfort because then I could finally leave this place without any guilt. But why wait? I might as well just get it over with and spare me the aching. Don’t I deserve at least one moment without these torturous thoughts?


Desire.

Let me be one of the stars,
I no longer wish to remain.
Being on this earth is agony,
staying is nothing but vain.

The night sky above is calling,
it’s reaching out for my soul.
These demons living within me
are trying to swallow me whole.

And I know I promised to resist,
yet this heart is weary of time.
My bones are heavy and cold
as I write down this final rhyme:

I’ve fought each gloom and light,
sought peace and quiet in art.
But the ink that used to define me
tore me step by step apart.


again&again&again

My chest hurts, I’m tired, and exhausted of my mind. I spent the whole day with suicidal thoughts and because that apparently wasn’t (fun) enough already, I’m stuck with more thoughts of misery. I know I am a burden, and I know, my God, I fucking know that I’m not lovely or great or worth a lot (if anything at all), but it still doesn’t make feeling insignificant and replaceable any easier. I’m tired. I’m upset. I’m all over the place. I just want to burn my skin and open it, just want to feel something else beside this misery, these constant thoughts of suicide. I just want to stop feeling so utterly t o r n apart.