The Worst Hours In My Broken Life

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Strange unknown house. My not-so-good friend party, birthday or whatsoever. Didn’t bother me too much, the occasion I mean. I was there, that was all that counted.

Boring to the bone.
Waiting to leave, unnoticed, without asking and answering stupid questions.

I was lost in the crowd with unfamiliar people, drinking my mojito, third, fourth, who counts anyway, looking for the door.
Tried to push myself to the limit of toleration of surrounding noise. The moment I felt my thoughts messed up, my head about to explode, I was seeking the way out.
No goodbye to anyone, just wanted to disappear without the trace.

I walked through the crowd, head down. No one noticed me, I was invisible, the state which is able to achieve if you know how. Blended into surrounding mess, words, polite chats. Awful.

As I entered the hallway, darkness surrounded me. I remembered where the entrance and the front door were. But there was complete blackness around. No lights at all. I was completely blind. Put my hand into the purse looking for my cell phone..but nothing.

Fuck, I thought.Fuck, fuck. Where is the fucking light? The switch?! Anything!?.

My purse filled up with thousand unnecessary things.
Like all the woman’s bags, you could survive the World War III with the content of the bag. Felt the lipstick under my fingers, car keys, wallet, everything and nothing useful.

I broke with anger, yelling at myself, thinking about entering that gray party zone again..I was so desperate.

And then.. that sound behind me.

Like a soft whisper. Like a tip toe walking towards me from behind.

“Hello?”, I asked.

No answer.

Sound again, this time, breathing, slow, deep breaths, almost touching my neck.

I could feel chills down the spine. My hands started to shake. I wasn’t scared, I was horrified.

There was someone. Breathing behind me. I could feel his presence, the warmth that was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want? Who is it!?”. No answer. Silence, thick and heavy, you could smell it, the fear, the horror, you could slice it with a knife.

And then..there it was.

Hand on my mouth. Hand around my waist, felling pulled away.

Wanted to yell, I couldn’t, wanted to bite, I couldn’t, wanted to fight, I couldn’t. He was too strong.

Heard the door squeak as they opened. He turned me around like a doll, pushed me somewhere.
There were dimming lights penetrating the window blinds.
It was a room. Messy place. Smell of wine, cigarettes..
He pushed me again, hard, hurting my hand. I screamed this time, but who was able to hear me?!

I landed on the bed, trying to stand up, to get away, to run..I felt nothing but my heart beating way through the chest.

His arms took my wrists, hard. ” You’re hurting me! Let go of me! You motherfucker!” Words flowed out of me with no respond.

I couldn’t breathe as he simply lie down on me. He, heavy as a rock, lied, and hurting me, I tried to move, with every muscle, with every drop of my remaining energy, freaking out.
I just couldn’t. Not an inch.

“I was waiting for this, for so long….”, whispered in my ear, distant, cold, unknown voice.

I started crying. This wasn’t happening Not to me. Not to me. Not to me!! It was just a dream I repeated to myself, just a nightmare, I should wake up any second now. Any second, I thought…

But i didn’t.

I felt him. Completely. Tearing my clothes away, mumbling something in a distance..

His face, barely visible, not recognizable, and mine, filled with terror, met inches away. I could feel his breath on my face.

“You want it. You wanted it. I know”, he said.

“No!!!” Screaming didn’t sound like my voice, more like a sound of the hurt animal brought to slaughter.

I felt hopeless. Felt tied down. Defeated. Wanted to give up.
My mind wandered somewhere, far, far away.
I thought if it must be, please God, let it be quick.
Tears rolling down my face, I was trembling with frailty. So vulnerable, so fragile.
So not me.

Then…

All around came the light, hurting my eyes. Someone came into the room.

“What the fuck!”. Remote voice, through the fog of misery.

He jumped. Literally jumped out of the bed.

I lay down for a while, unable to move. Felt someones hands helping me to get up. To get dressed. Wiping my tears.

As police came, and ambulance, I don’t remember a thing. I spoke something, do not remember what, shaking.

Driving to the hospital, the lights of the ambulance car and sirens.. distant. Felt as nothing of this was happening to me. Felt aloof and empty. Just an empty shell. Every inch of my body hurt. Body? That was not my body anymore.

Three days later, 18 stitches later, numberless consultations and answering..I went home.

He was brought to prison, that much I know. And got out for a minimum number of months. Physical assault, good beahviour.

Unlike his, my prison and burden never left me. I buried it deep inside, where no one can see it. It digs up his way out sometimes, but I beat it.

And now, this is me. Beating it up now, in this time, but not when I should do it. Because I couldn’t think then.

I was old me again..after a countless months.

An that is what I call my triumph, to overcome myself.

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Parents, who the hell invented them in the first place?!

 

Short and sweet this will be.

Like would master Yoda say, you own path go must. Ignore the stupid as better you can do.

That’s a comment to a conversation my mother and I had today.

Like two monkeys, not understanding what the other one said.

 

I could also speak Chinese, it would make no difference to her. She has a tremendous way of understanding me.  She just doesn’t,  but she thinks she does, so it turns in a one big argument conversation without the conclusion or ending.

I feel drenched and angry. Facepalm for her winning again,and leaving me feel like a crap.

 

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Rebel

Camus-Rebel

 

“I choose my own destiny!”

That’s such a common phrase, that gets me laughing every time I hear it.

What the f…. k can you choose? You are buried down with your own thoughts, worries, everyday obligations that just need to be done! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less!

There is no excuse for your obligations, in your so-called ” life”. There are no choices!

No excuses for not going to work even if you feel and think that you’d rather stay home.

You must stay “responsible” and execute your obligations as they come.

Every morning when I woke up, and barely pull out myself out of the bed, I sincerely ask myself, where the hell I lost my last ten years? A whole decade?!

Flushed down the toilet, wasted and thrown away. Wasted on others and for the others.

I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.

Hopeless face that has come to the final conclusion.

You don’t choose anything!

Everything else chooses you. And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Of course, you can decide for yourself if you’re gonna wear that pair of shoes today or not… but that’s so irrelevant.

The big life choices and decisions, oh, you thought you made it yourself?!

Do not be stupid! You were probably influenced by people surrounding you, your community and way of life that is „prescribed“ to you.

We are just a mass of entities, like an ant farm, running around, unable to see the bigger picture.

The more you run, the more you bury yourself into the every day’s happenings, the more you become detached from life and from yourself.

I am detached. It’s kinda floating feeling. Acting as a robot, just doing stuff that need to be done.

And the real Me? Cuddled somewhere deep inside waiting… not knowing what am I waiting for.

But I do know one thing.

There is no f…g way to get out of the line that just keeps leading you further and further. No stopping, just moving forward. Walking straight, you with the rest of the herd.

If you think that you are not the same kind and you’re somehow different, you are so deeply wrong.

The truth, the meaning of the life is not available to us, common people. We are just wanderers keeping what we need to keep, doing what we must do, and NOT what we want to do.

You can call yourself a Rebel, someone who will just push and overcome all of the boundaries and rules of the society, to live a life-like you really want to.

Wanna be a rebel ?! Come on, play the role!  You will not last for a day. This game of life has rules! First of all, obedience! If you fight against it, you want last for a day.

I thought that this mind retrospective would be a positive one. But, I do realize now that it is not either positive or negative.

It is just REAL.

Albert Camus said :”The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion“.

I tried and I failed.

But, at least – I tried!

Did you try, ever?!

The Coffee, The Pen And The Gun

#TRIGGER WARNING!#

 

coffee and a gun

 

I had a cup of coffee, then two

I took a pen and wrote some notes on the paper

About the future, about the past

I wrote a letter to someone who will care enough to read it

I even draw a picture of the world as I see it

Just a black sheet of emptiness.

 

I don’t like guns

But I feel safe when I have one around

As being attacked too many times in my life

I always bear that feeling of threat incoming towards me.

 

The coffee, the pen and the gun.

I used only two of them.

The third stayed untouched.

 

For how long?

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY CHARACTERISTICS THAT MAKE YOU AWESOME

bpd2

 

As I said in the title, the negative BPD characteristics make you at the same time, awesome.

It is just a question which side will prevail, negative or positive, in a specific situation.

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER COMPLEXITY

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY COMPLEXITY

Your character defined through BPD:

awesome, brilliant, emotional, empathic, charismatic and with no control over all of it!

  1. So, you can be a little pretty lady and go to the bitch state in 0.13 seconds, or have an emotional outburst on a single word that practically doesn’t mean anything special
  2. You can drive a car while singing your favorite tune, and in the next moment crushing the headlights of the idiot’s car in front of you.
  3. You can be happy and in the next second curling on the floor bursting with the tears.
  4. You really love your partner, but when he/she goes away, you feel abandoned and hate their guts.
  5. You don’t understand yourself, yet you accuse others for not understanding you also.
  6. You want to explain someone what is wrong with you, but it’s not possible.
  7. You are killing your emotional pain through physical pain of self-harm.
  8. You feel all emotions at once, and its overburdening, so you self-harm again.
  9. You have suicidal thoughts, sometimes all the time, every day, and yet you are smiling outside.
  10. You think of people as good or bad, nothing in between.
  11. You fear rejection, yet you push the people out of your life, before the rejection occurs.
  12. You are highly empathic and that makes you tired, you don’t need other people’s emotions as well.

All of this is, and so much more, is a full package of things you feel and do.

That is why the BPD is so complex, so it is often beyond normal understanding of the people that surround you.

The worst thing is, that the majority of the psych docs doesn’t know what to do with you.

Help is hard to find.

And BPD is not a broken arm that heals over time.

What do you think?

I Am My Own Worst Enemy

LINKIN PARK- GIVEN UP

 

I relate to this song in every word that has been written, singed, read, written, felt.

 

“Stuck in my head again

Feels like I’ll never leave this place
There’s no escape

I’m my own worst enemy

I’ve given up
I’m sick of feeling
Is there nothing you can say

Take this all away
I’m suffocating
Tell me what the fuck is wrong
With me”

The Beer, The Impending Doom And A Glass Of Whiskey

 

“And on my deathbed I will pray to the gods and the angels,

Like a pagan to anyone who will take me to heaven;

To a place I recall, I was there so long ago.

The sky was bruised, the wine was bled, and there you led me on.”

 

Surrounded by people I call friends, surrounded by people I call relatives, holding onto my beer, firmly.

 

Voices all around me. Making noise and not sense. Attacking me.

 

I hate gatherings. I hate being surrounded. I do not feel good. In fact, I feel awful.

 

In my head, the movie begins:

I am standing up on the table, throwing the bottle to the ground. The sound of broken glass makes everyone to look at me.

And then I start to yell. To each of them I tell everything I wanted to tell for a long time, but I didn’t, ’cause I was polite.

But not tonight.

After I told what I had to say, I break at least two tables and chairs. One chair is thrown into a window.

I can feel glass flying right into me, sticking into my flesh, the warmth of blood leaking slowly down my body.

And if that’s not enough, there’s always a Glock to finish the situation.

 

But the beer is not cold anymore.

And I’m on the verge of an incident.

Laughing next to me, my friend poured accidentally a glass of wine, ruining her perfect dress with lovely flowers.

To me, the dress looks so much better now.

 

I am getting of the table and walking away without saying goodbye.

I hear my name being called, but I’m not turning or responding.

 

The car, the road and me.

 

“Save me from myself, save me from myself….”, repeating into my mind like a broken record player.

 

After few cuts I’ll be fine. Pouring a full glass of whiskey makes me almost happy. The sound and the scent of the glass filling to the top.

Killing the beast is not easy, and I will do all I can, to make it go away.

 

The Unsafe Container of Emotions

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/unsafe-containers/

 

Really cool, I would say, the nick – “The Unsafe Containers”, for a bag full of emotions. Which is ready to explode.

When I feel, I feel with the enormous intensity, that overwhelms me completely.

Love, fear, it does not matter, I am overflowed.

That is a common problem in Borderline Personality Disorder. Emotions that are so strong that they could tear you apart.

 

Over the years, I’ve learned to hide these moments of overflowing, because I don’t like that people who surround me, know what I exactly feel.

The reason why I’m hiding myself is that non-BPD people don’t understand such moments, or especially the moments of total numbness and emptiness.

But, of all the feelings I do have, the only two I cannot control at all, are impulsivity and anger.

When I am angry, there are no words to describe the intensity of it. If it is really bad, I usually throw things around, the first thing that comes into my hand, cellphones, plates, even chairs.

I have never harmed anyone, or I wanted to hurt somebody else.

The anger results in harming myself.

Once I didn’t even realised that my arm is cut, and that I am bleeding heavily. I broke a glass, a wine glass, with full strength against the wall. The awards for that  moment were eight stitches at the ER.

Luckily, these moments are rare, and I really want to find the way to control them, because, I must admit, I am afraid of myself and my own reactions to those feelings.

It’s mine own little, messy Borderline Personality Disorder. I wish I could say that I’m dealing with it ok, but I am not.

So, “The Unsafe Container”, stays with me further, until I find a better lid that will keep everything closed and wrapped up.