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.

 

51512052

 

 

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You Are Who You Are, Why Change?

AUDIOSLAVE – BE YOURSELF

 

We are all born into this world different in a perfect genetic chaos, making us unique. Unless, you of course have a twin brother or a sister, then you might consider yourself a little bit not unique.

If the universe wanted it the other way, we would all like the same music, dress the same way, are thoughts would be the same, our lives would be exactly the same.

But the nature itself tends to the chaotic state. It’s natural to be chaotic, to be different than the others who surround you.

I often question myself, what would happen’ if I really accept a long-term psychotherapy and completely change my mindset, my behaviour, my relationships with other people?

Would it still be me? Or someone else?

I know a guy with BPD for many years. When he reached the bottom, and searched for help, he undergo the process of a long psychotherapy sessions.

He is not the same person anymore.

We are still friends, but some of his reactions, sentences, the way he sees the world, is fully changed. I disagree with him a lot. And our friendship is not what it used to be.

In a way, a lost a friend.

I’m glad for him because he leads a normal life, with minor problems now and then, but I would never accept changing myself into someone else.

Sorry, I was born this way. I apologize for all my mistakes, bad manners, harsh words. I did the wrong this in my life. I hurt people, and I am sorry because of that.

But the others have hurt me as well, in a worse and more terrible way then I have done to anybody, ever!

Have they been sent to the psychiatrist? No.

So I choose to by myself.

The way I am.

I have changed only one thing: I brought a lot of kindness, empathy and love towards the others.

My character, though, didn’t change.

If you’re messing with me, it’s not gonna end well for you.

If you are kind to me, I’ll be kind to you.

My personality is who I am, but my attitude depends on you!

That’s why I posted this song.

It says it all.

“Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do!”

 

 

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.

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”

Paint It Black

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and I must have it painted black
Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black” -Rolling Stones.

 

 

Darkest of darkness I have ever seen,

Turned into a crack filled with the pitch-black starless space.

 

I merged into it, floating on the surface desperately,

While I was unwilling,  and slowly, consumed absolutely.

 

I turned into black, the darkness pure,

The Soul, the Heart and the Mind full of the gloomy fury.

 

Is there blackest than the deepest black?

Could the darkness I’ve become,

Turn into the substance more mournful than it is?

 

Do not wake me up,

Until the whole black mayhem is scrubbed away.

Do not make me feel,

Until the colors reappear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey, how fast things can fall apart!

 

 

 

Hey, hey, hey….how I hate this BPD.

 

I felt like shit for the last couple of days, but today it has escalated enormously.

 

I had a  meeting arranged, which I couldn’t miss, because, hey, job is a job, and I have a work to do.

I pushed myself to the end, passing my limits to get out of the apartment, get to the meeting, smile, do the presentation, talk, negotiate, make a deal.

 

Hey, hey, my boss will be happy!!

Fuck him.

 

I got home exhausted emotionally and physically. Exhausted, but yet tremendously nervous and anxious.

 

My body wanted to sit, but instead, I was cleaning the bathroom.

My mind wanted to sleep, but hey, I had to do the laundry.

 

Because, when I sat down, hey, what a disastrous mess started in my head.

“This is not good…fight it back..fight it back..”.

 

So I cleaned the apartment, I did everything I could just to stop myself from thinking.

But hey, eventually, I had to sit down.

 

I wanted to hit the wall, to take the razor, to scream until I drop.

Popped up one Klonopin to settle down a bit.

Nothing .

Hey, let’s make that two. Three. Four. I stopped counting at ten.

 

I felt dizzy, somehow sleepy, hey, I know that feeling, been there, done that a million times before.

But inside of me….everything you can imagine was happening at the same time.

 

Hey, do you know how does it feel, to feel all you that you are able to feel at once,  and so intense, that it hurts?!

I hope you don’t.

 

I really hate this BPD.

Hate myself. Hate everything.

If this life had a meaning, I would have found it a long time ago.

All I do now is a struggle, not to do IT again and end up this hell.

 

Six suicide attempts, first when I was just ten years old.

The last one was a close enough. I have been reanimated, because I stopped breathing, my heart stopped.. and fuck it, there was no tunnel with a light at the end.

Maybe the lights turned off, just for me.

 

Hey, I really hate this BPD.

 

Maybe the next time, someone will be so kind to change the bulbs in the tunnel, and turn the lights on.

I would appreciate it, thank you in advance.

 

 

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.