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Jan 2017 · 2.4k
borderline pt. 2
Brider Olen Jan 2017
"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’s 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 open arms.

It feels empty.
At the core of my being, I am nothing. I’m 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 such an eerie way that I’m left 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 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? 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 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.
Aug 2016 · 276
space.
Brider Olen Aug 2016
We were here for a moment,

and then you were gone.
Aug 2016 · 1.1k
Em
Brider Olen Aug 2016
Em
I wonder if you were
reading
b e t w e e n  t h e  l i n e s
when I told you to
keep your distance --

when you're painting the air
with your tongue,

your words
dance around the room
and
kiss the pockets of my skin
in a way that
leaves me breathless

and that should be
evidence enough:

all I’m thinking about
is what I want you
to
paint
next
Jan 2016 · 748
borderline
Brider Olen Jan 2016
I was the world's
biggest contradiction

and
I danced back and forth
between the lines
so much
that when I finally decided
it was time to be myself

I couldn't remember
who that was anymore
.
Oct 2015 · 3.7k
The Fight.
Brider Olen Oct 2015
imagine you're standing at the edge of a beach, looking into the water. it's a beautiful beach, the best you've ever been to.
the water is pure, the sand is soft.
and it's all yours, this wonderful beach. as you're standing there, you see a tsunami approaching.
you can't believe it, this tsunami is about to tear apart your
sacred beach, and you with it.
you yell, you scream, you think of everything possible to try and stop this tsunami from coming, but on it rages.
it reaches you and you're immediately knocked off your feet, drowning in the mad water.
it pushes and pulls you in a million different directions
and you choke on its waves.

do you fight?
of course you do. this is your beach.
the tsunami has no right to be here.
you'll be strong and fight until this tsunami goes away. and so you do. you kick and you swim and you keep your head above water and finally,
your feet reach the ground again.
miraculously, when you look around, your beach is still intact.
the sand is still soft at the touch,
and the water is the purest of blues again.
but you're barely able to catch your breath for a second before you see in the distance another tsunami headed towards you and your wonderful beach.

you can't believe it.
again its waves swallow you and you're not as strong as you were when the first tsunami hit.

do you fight?
of course you do.
..right?
it's harder to keep your head above water this time,
and the waves pull you under until you're at your breaking point.
you don't know which way is up or down,
and when you reach the ground again,
this time it's your knees that touch the soft sand,
not your feet.
you're shaken. a little weak, but otherwise okay.
you get to your feet, look out into the water, and your heart stops. another tsunami headed your way...

you're not sure you're going to make it as the 8th tsunami
takes its turn on you.
you've been underwater for minutes and you can feel the last of your oxygen being used up.
it's your instinct to fight, but how much more can you really give?
your body is weak and your mind isn't far behind.

do you fight?
do you fight for your beach?
you think of its perfection and it dawns on you that no one in their right mind would give up a beach like that.
so you should fight.
shouldn't you?
you don't know anymore.
is it worth it?

the beauty of the beach is matched by the terror of the tsunamis.
it's not possible for you to have one without the other.

you don't have to make your decision this time,
because as your still deciding,
you feel your back rest upon the warm, soft sand.
you're lying down and you don't even have the energy
to lift your head up.
but you hear it.
you hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards you.

i hear the terrifying tsunami racing towards me.
do i brace myself for the fight?
do i stand up and face this tsunami head on?
do i keep still and accept defeat?
will i let the water rush over me and stop fighting?

..what would you do if it were you?
Circa 2012.
Jan 2015 · 576
(i'm not) sorry.
Brider Olen Jan 2015
I have a theory
on why we failed:

I stopped trying
to impress you.
Jan 2015 · 432
cheers.
Brider Olen Jan 2015
I like to
make a habit of
getting drunk and
bonding with people
over the meaning of life
and waking up the
next morning

only to realize that
s/he doesn't remember
my name and that I actually
don't like that habit
at all
Jan 2015 · 424
why can't i sleep.
Brider Olen Jan 2015
maybe it's because the only
time i can hear myself think
is when it's
quiet
and i don't have to worry about
speak up, no one can hear you
or having something to say
that no one will listen to

because i'm absolutely sick of
people telling me they understand
when i haven't even finished the story

and maybe it's because
at 4am
i don't need to
speak at all
to be
heard
by me
Jan 2015 · 683
warning.
Brider Olen Jan 2015
there's something
dangerous
about the way you pause
ever so slightly before
pressing your lips
to mine

it's as if the space
between our lips is
begging you to
keep your distance

because if you were
to proceed, you'd find
yourself in a world of
contradiction

you see, i am the moon
and i find myself
lusting after
the city

instead
of
the
sea
.
Jan 2015 · 274
for you.
Brider Olen Jan 2015
I cried for you
last night and the
only thing that
bothers me  

is that you'll never know why.
Dec 2014 · 471
cycles.
Brider Olen Dec 2014
From strangers to lovers
And then back again

and

It was so much easier to forget about you
when I didn't know you existed.
Dec 2014 · 234
A thought.
Brider Olen Dec 2014
My mind becomes
such a dangerous place
when it has time
to think for itself.

— The End —