Sick of being stuck awake,
I should probably bake a cake,
Stuff a file inside, then sit for an hour of wait,
Another hour to cool, use the tool to pry my mind from this cage
Blow out the candles, the world becomes my stage
But I fall flat on a crowd with button eyes, deaf ears,
Rusted mental gears, and smiles looking at me queer.
"Hi I'm Ryan, I'm a poet. I belong here."
Reading to a generation that skipped reading,
Stuck feeding off of the **** for free
Asking for another handout that a past life made them believe
They deserved, too delicate, while I stay thick like corduroy,
Poking fun like I should take some ilk, you're too soft
I destroy you, still drinking mother's milk, you're soft as silk.
Don't make me spell it out, we are cut from different cloth.

I've sat with my life choices happy as an oyster
In a month that doesn't have an "R"
People walk through the door and try to raise my bar,
You couldn't come close, don't judge those who trudge
Through mud and sludge then take a second to coast,
I'm still a star while others whack the green,
Barely even keeping up with par.

I don't even have enemies, I get angry with my own mind
That tells me I should be on a steady grind
Then find myself too tired to stay awake
Too awake to fall asleep, let's write it out,
I never was one to be good at counting sheep
I took to counting breaths, counting beats,
Never couldn't count on me, have a seat.
Let's talk it out and bake a cake,
Another file filed so I can free this cage,
I flee the stage.

You can say I'm nobody,
But I am something, I'm not a body,
I bring in a force, not of reckoning,
I don't have the devil by the horns
I'd rather scorn those who sit so serious.
We can burn down this city,
Torch the town to ash with me
But only to laugh that it really hit the ground
Don't worry, we are all survivors, all around.
I don't need your money, don't insult my mind.
I'm a soldier of a different kind.

You can say I'm nobody,
In a sea of passing people populating a plot
Because the train for me just doesn't stop,
Time doesn't move for me and it doesn't not
I'm here like you with a name attached
But from me to you, I'm just a faceless man
I'm not special, I didn't participate,
I didn't do good or great and most of your demons,
I am nobody, so how could I relate?

I could say you are nobody,
Or we can shake hands and be now known.
We can discuss our interests, the lives we've grown.
We can be special in a sense that I made you so,
We can have heated discussions making time slow
Or laugh until the sun dawns then sets.
But truly i must admit,  I'm in a hurry and must be going.
Sincerely,
a nobody someone almost met.

Every night I write a poem for you

Hoping that someday you will find and read them
And then i know, you will hug me tightly just like you used to do
and then everything will get fine just like it used to be.

The whispers
                 behind his back
                                killed him.

But i Iove you.
your heart its been shattered before,
its been rooted down to the floor.

your eyes have been through galaxies of oceans and tears.
you hate the voices and shadows, they make you fear, they want you to hear
them.

i can tell you, my love, that i don't deserve anything, except the cursed things and objects. Don't everyone? We dance to music that sells our souls, and talk the talk that kills the heart, and widens the hole.

I love you.
And i don't care if you are "mean", or bad, or a nightmare living in your own mirror.
Because, doesn't true love see all the mess, and scars, and yet, love the same?
I don't want to drive you insane, but I love you.
.
.
.
.
12258

I hope I guess it right.
Why you were disappointed and upset.
You can leave me, you can give up on me aren't you tired of me?

Is it because I talked to other girls?
Is it because I wasnt there for you?
Is it because I didn't talk to you?
I miss your summer hues.
Now you give me snoozes and mutes.

Saying sorry won't help.
I can't hug you either.
I disappointed you and I don't even know why.
I am adding drama to your life isn't it.
You hate drama.

I don't want you to leave.
But if you are tired of me, giving up on me, not loving me anymore, you can.
I am not the one for you then.

I love you.
But I think you are doubting that.
I don't even know if I am loving God or not.
And I don't know what to do but to tell you to "wait."

I can't do this.
Can I.
I can't be the one who you want.
Can I.

These are my guesses.
And some of my confessions.
But don't leave me.
Because I still have an affection,
for you.

Sometimes I wonder if my suicide attempt actually worked and this is just hell i'm living in now.
Like I’m just another part of the statistic.
Research has shown that around 70 percent of people with BPD will have at least one suicide attempt in their lifetime, and many will make multiple suicide attempts, and people with BPD are more likely to complete suicide.
Sometimes I stand and everything goes black, and the static in my head gets louder and louder.
Sometimes I cry, sobbing between heaving- but not often because it’s hard for me to display emotions normally.
We’re supposed to be constantly feeling things at an intensified level than neurotypicals.
Sometimes I get distant. I disassociate from myself and exist somewhere in between reality and the void.
It’s hard for me to say sorry to those I hurt in the process of me hurting myself.
I can’t sit still.
My mind’s moving 100 mph and it’s almost impossible to slow it down.
Countless flashbacks play in the back of my mind on a reel. Like a horror flick I can’t get out of.
Like I’m in a nightmare and everything in me is saying run but my legs won’t move.
When you have BPD you can’t really control your emotions.
It’s an emotional switch that flips. Like the breaker box is shot and all the wires are frayed.
I wear his T-shirt’s when he’s gone to remind me that he still exists. His smell on the pillowcase is the only reminder that he was even here, that it was real.
When you have BPD nothing seems real. You often question if you really do exist.
A friend asked me why I write everything down and turn it into a poem. The only way I can assure myself it really happened is to let it live on through my art.
Everyday I wake up and ask myself if I can just be normal today. Be a normal sister, a normal girlfriend, a normal human being. I always set my expectations far too high.
It may not mean much to him but his slightly different demeanor has me in a state of panic fueled by my overwhelming fear of rejection and abandonment.
I live with this everyday and some days it’s harder to push all the fears to my subconscious.
It’s like I’m falling rapidly down a mountainside and the sudden occurrence of fear in overwhelming quantities is crushing my chest. Clogging my windpipe, making it seemingly impossible to breathe.
Living with BPD is the equivalent of constantly being at war with yourself. You don’t get quiet moments.
But I sustain myself on the idea that everything will be okay.
Everything’s okay.
I’m okay.  
And people ask me why I can’t just shut it off, as if it is that easy.
I’m doing everything I can to stop the voices in my head from screaming over his whisper in my ear.
I find comfort in the fact that he loves me despite the chaos. I sustain myself on the fact that he loves me. That’s all the justification needed.
I know he’s probably sick of always putting me back together, but his touch makes all the sharp edges fit perfectly together.
I have no impulse control.
But I am slowly accepting my disease, and I remember to not let it define me.
I’m learning to cope, and I have to remember to be kind to myself.
If you’re struggling with mental illness, please remember to be kind to yourself.
If some days you need to stay in bed, that’s okay.
If some days you forget to take your medication, that’s okay.
If some days you act on your impulses, that is okay.
Don’t hide yourself from the world because you are different.
You are radiant, you are celestial, you are loved.
Always remember you matter.
May is BPD awareness month and my only goal is to speak to other through my story.
If you or someone you know is struggling with BPD, educate yourself on the symptoms and traits.
Let’s raise awareness for Borderline Personality Disorder