Susie Ivan
Susie Ivan
7 days ago

It's been four years since I tried to kill myself.
And although time has passed and healed me of a lot of things.
I still consider it

I just turned 21. I was looking forward to this birthday. But I'm not looking forward to any other birthdays. The past four years have gone by so fast. So I can imagine the next 4 years will go by quickly as well. I panic about it everyday.
Jan 24

so genuine it seems fake
cries easily
animal lover
overly sweet
accidentally inconsiderate
cant whisper to save my life
non confrontational until angered
hard working
obnoxiously loud and annoying
avoids messy situations until i HAVE to face them
loves being feared / having power
hates directly hurting people
too freaked to apologize
very touchy

emotional intelligence starts with knowing yourself

Some people wear a wolf's smile
Grinning while stalking you all the while
Some watch the world with cats eyes
Keeping their views locked under a guise
Some listen like a deer in the fog
Timidly hearing all through the smog
Some hearts take flight like a turtle dove
Plain to the outside, but soaring above

i wonder if any of the same hair when we first got together is still on my head
it's a weird thought
maybe the very last centimeters
hair cuts
hair dye
remember when my ex cut my hair?
remember both times i cut my hair to my shoulders or above?
i wonder where the hair is that you first touched
several hair brushes
scattered on pillows and old sheets
washing machines
wherever i go my hair will leave
fall out from stress
somewhere, right now is the old me
or breaking down in the soil

now i am so artificial

This is about how much I used to worry about my hair, and some days I have peculiar thoughts about what happened to the hairs that have fallen out and where they could be. Somewhere there are multicolored- brightly painted pieces of hair
or they have slowly decomposed
I used to dye my hair a lot and ocasionally I still do- but not like I used to.
The last line references how now I feel so fake.. I have changed so much. I used to be a care free person, I didn't care what people think. My hair has been almost every color possible. Nowadays I am always switching between blonde and brown, although it isn't me deep down, it puts me in the norm. I have been  following the crowd and this poem talks about how I have come to realization about it through something so simple: hair.
In my mind that has also been something that means a lot to me and it would speak my personality through it's self. I'm always changing. I'm not who I was. I am fake as can be.
#sad   #hair   #deep   #personality   #peculiar  

It was in April we met of last year
Never thought I'd hold you so dear
A curious thing I thought you were
Loud, eccentric, and certainly belligerent
Of my feelings, mostly inconsiderate

At odds were we from the start
With every argument we rip each other clean apart
We clash like demigods on the battlefront
I, petulantly persistent and you, cruelly blunt
I am stubborn and prideful just like you
An abundance of intense feelings between we two
Polar opposites in personality are we
But some of the things in you I see in me

Leery was I of your intentions
Following every reply with even more questions
See, no matter how hard I try can't read you
So handing my trust over to you is an issue
I've never had someone be so true
It scares me to death, because true people are so few

Even if you are not meant to be my lover
You'd be a genuine friend--like no other
(Even at times when we can't stand one another)

Patient sometimes you are with me
As I slowly release my grip and conceed to our reality
For whatever twisted reason there may be
I love you for you and you love me for me

We are like fire and gasoline, passionate lovers usually end in smoldering ash. We'll see how it goes

"What does it feel like to be borderline?"

I have never been able to explain BPD in a way that satisfies me. What I experience becomes trivialized by attempting to put words to it. Words are so direct and they are so obvious, and they aren’t even close to capable of capturing the complexity and the mystery that is BPD. But I can try.

It feels like black and white and nothing in between.
Every thing, every person, every place – they are either good or they are bad. I am either good or I am bad. Constantly changing, never the same. Good girl, bad girl. Good self, bad self. Good friend, bad friend. Good mother, bad mother. I hate you, don’t leave me.

It feels overwhelming.
I don’t feel sadness, but anguish. I don’t feel upset, but hysterical. I don’t feel joy, but ecstasy. I don’t feel anger, but fury. Not love, but infatuation… obsession. It is exhausting to feel so much. Relationships are endless cycles of love and hate and pain and bad habits that I can’t seem to break no matter how hard I try. Every new face that enters into my life is someone who is capable of abandonment, and it has become so much easier to shut the world out than to invite heartbreak into my home with sanguine arms.

It feels empty.
At the core of my being, I am nothing. I am an empty shell surrounded by the chaos that is my emotional havoc. Remove my emotions, and I am flat lined. Remove them and I no longer exist. No direction, no sense of self, no core identity. At the peak of an emotional breakdown, I am everything. I am every negative emotion in existence, and then some. And I’m so alive with fury, with desolation, with misery, and with so much pain. When it becomes too much for my body and mind to handle, it disappears in the most eerie way that leaves me questioning whether or not what I just experienced was real. I switch back and forth from being too alive that it physically pains me, to being consumed by nothingness. Nothingness is sitting alone on my kitchen floor in the middle of the night, wondering whether the chill I feel on my shoulder actually exists or not. Nothingness is staring off into space for an hour and wondering when my body will allow me to exist again so that I can move.

It feels confusing.
Like not knowing the answer to a series of questions. Who am I? One question I feel that I should know the answer to, yet… nothing. My favorite color is yellow, because that’s what it was when I was a child. Decisions are impossible – how do you decide anything without a stable sense of identity? So I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you what I wanted for dinner tonight, but that’s because I was trying to decide if I’m the type of person who likes Mexican or if I’m the type of person who likes Italian. I wake up each morning with a new definition of who I am, only to be let down by myself each night for not living up to the me that I decided to be that day.

It feels needy.
Endlessly, and hopelessly needy. I need to be appreciated. I need to be validated. I need to be wanted. I need to be loved. But I need these things in a way that is so much more than anyone is capable of giving me. It feels like such a small favor to ask – to be loved by those who are supposed to love me. But no one seems able to meet my expectations. It leaves me pathetically wondering whether or not anyone is capable of caring about me in a way that makes sense to me. And although I already know the answer, I still need to be loved so desperately that I search for it with everything that I have. It’s endless messages and too many phone calls. And it’s the knowledge that my actions are only perpetuating the likelihood of abandonment, but I need love so badly that I have no choice but to continue.

It feels irrational.
Being capable of thinking rationally only makes the irrational behavior so much more miserable. The knowledge that behaving in reaction to emotion is irrational, does not make me any less likely to do so. I’m constantly walking towards a cliff, muttering to myself, “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it.” Only to fall off the edge anyway. And every time I fall feels unimaginably more painful than the time before, but I don’t know how to stop.

It feels bright.
When I love, it is the single brightest thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. It’s so goddamn bright that it burns my eyes in a way that makes me see a life that I could have never imagined on my own. Without my darkness, I am on top of the world. Ecstasy is just as intense an emotion as misery, except that for me, it’s coated with anxiety and fear. I never quite know what to do with happiness, and before I have the chance to really enjoy it, it’s gone.

And it feels like being lost.
Lost in loneliness, lost in the vacillation of my emotions, lost in the insanity of knowing absolutely nothing about myself. My emotions are a language that I cannot speak, and they are winning the war that I am struggling to fight.

to be read aloud.

To let people run over me
I have a tendency,
I'm a doormat off sorts
With bristles that are coarse
And the personality to match,
What catch.

#terrible   #bad   #me   #person   #over   #push   #personality   #lame   #tendency   #doormat  

I'm easy to fall in love with.
(I shouldn't be)
I'm not easy to love.
(My God I wish I was)

I'm the kind of lover
that will waltz the streets at 2 a.m
just to see you.
The kind of lover
that will write you poetry
from across the seas.
The kind of lover
that sheds a tear
as my fingertips graze your skin.
I'm the kind of lover
that loves fiercely.
I'm the kind of lover
that hates ferociously.

I'm the kind of lover
that will pour fuel on your jealously
to feel the heat of your love.
The kind of lover
that can turn to ice
and freeze your heart with one touch.  
The kind of lover
that at any instant
can become no lover at all.

I'm the kind of lover
you don't want to love.
I'll elate you and destroy you.
I'll give you the stars
and make you watch as they collapse.
I'll gift you roses
and watch the thorns bleed you.

I'm the kind of lover
you love to love.
I'll drive a thousand miles away
and walk back home to you.
I'll burn every poem I wrote you
and hand write every one again.
I'll push you down
and bear the sky to stand you up.
I'll destroy you and rebirth you.

I'm not easy to love,
and my God I wish I was.
One day, I know, I will be.
My psychiatrist said so.
Just you wait.
I promise,
I'm worth the wait.

A young girl's life ended
without the opportunity to grow
made all reason incomprehensible
shrouded the family in agonising woe

Her nascent bubbling personality
not given the light to flower
taken from this life
too soon for a final hour

Her mother may have questioned her God
her father may have denounced his belief
broken hearts may never have truly mended
prolonged time may never have healed grief

Her mother may have believed in heaven
her father may have returned to Mass
but their faith would be fully realised
if rejoining her came to pass

A personal piece. A tribute to my parents and my sister who passed away in infancy.

Saint or sinner?
Jekyll or Hyde?
I gotta choose one.

iamthe_avatar ©2017

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