I can remember the words “Don’t leave me” spewing from my mouth as you grabbed your wallet. As I heard the jingle of your keys.
I was never the girl who asked someone to stay. Not till you.
I was always pushing and shoving people out the door. Slamming it shut on their fingers, hearing the crunch of their knuckles as I locked the deadbolt.
My forte was leaving people behind.
Living on the run.
Loving for fun.
My mother left my father because he drank too much. She said she loved him but she could still feel the ache in her tummy as he pushed the couch to it when the two pink, parallel lines showed up on that stick. And there I rest, in that same tummy. My fingernails barley formed. My heartbeat slow. Not a hair on my head.
The strongest thing she could do for us was lock the deadbolt behind him. When he took the money, and the car, and that case of beer that tore them apart.
See I’m not strong enough to lock the deadbolt behind you. I will always leave the lights on, the welcome mat outside my chest will always hide the key to my heart. You know just where to find it.
I can’t leave you behind.
Because you’re my first taste of love.
So bitter, so sweet.
You bring out my greatest adversaries.
Everything I hate about me.
The things I try so hard to push to my subconscious.
You lay them all out.
I was always prone to flight in times of strife.
But with you I want to fight.
And I will fight till my knuckles are ****** and my knees are bruised.
I’ll fight for you till I’m black and blue. And I will keep fighting.
You are every hope,every promise and every reason to keep going.
I will sail your uncharted waters and even when the tide is high, and the waves are pulling me under. I will swallow that water instead of drowning.

I bite my lip when I miss you
I apologize if my kisses taste like blood.
Lately my tongues been tasting like asphalt and copper.
My cheeks are soaked by acid tears.
I’ve lived my life in violent indigos.
You’re my first taste of yellow.
The static isn’t so loud now.
You touch me like I’m made of glass
I know I’ll never break by your touch.
Those calloused hands,
so smooth yet so rough.
Those eyes, so empty and lost.
I could drown in that shade of blue when the sun hits just right.
We’re driving home and taillights paint red on your face, you grab my hand, and the corners of your mouth rise.
The moonlight kisses you.
And I’m so-
So envious.
Bringing you to me was the kindest thing the winter could ever do.
And I loved you through the piercing cold.
And I love you now.
God, I love you now.

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

I long for the ghost of December, to be touched by Winter’s piercing cold.

I long to be spread across your sheets like continents.

I long to be close to you.

I want to seep into the cracks of your heart.

I want to build a home out of your ribcage.

I want to find refuge in your collarbones.

I want to love you.

i wear your sweaters when you're asleep & i wear them when your not home to remind me of who i am;
your girlfriend, your fantasy, the love of your life;
but suddenly my mind wonders who am i without you?
i've lost myself inside of you, i've buried myself deep beneath your ribcages & made home inside your chest;
but then i remember i never existed to begin with because i've always been a shapeshifter.
twisting & morphing into what everyone else wants me to be, forgetting that i have a body, a mind & a soul all of my own;
feeling guilty for taking a second to breathe through the bars on this jail cell window.
i've been laying on the floor like a carpet,
letting everyone walk on me & pretending that it's completely acceptable;
& i've always hosted the parties to give myself a sense of control when in reality all i'm doing is serving people.
but please, my love, don't misunderstand me;
my love for you is always here inside of me even if it's gone into hiding;
this illness clouding my brain has been growing from a pinprick into a wrecking ball;
turning everything into black & white as if i'm living on a zebras skin.
you always loved the yin & yang symbol, well that's how my mind self-destructs;
for anyone who doesn't know, the yin & yang symbolizes the good & the bad, with a little good in the bad & a little bad in the good;
a small light in the dark & a hint of shadow in the light;
except the way my mind works, there is no flicker of a flame in the darkness & darkness does not exist in the light;
at least that's how my mind perceives things...
when i'm treated with love & adoration, my heart suddenly beats & you are an angelic being i am undeserving of;
but then again i never deserved any form of happiness, according to my thoughts;
when i am treated with abuse & neglect (or what my brain tells me is abuse & neglect), i shut down my emotions & once again become a ghost to my own body;
but then again this hollow numbness is the home i grew up in...
i don't remember much of my childhood & sometimes i wonder if that's a good thing;
was it to protect myself from the horrors that i'm not sure even existed,
or was it really a wonderful childhood that i purposefully forgot so i could give all the blame to my family?
i don't remember much of my childhood but i know i forgot it to relieve myself of some of this pressure;
some of this pressure that pushes down on me every minute of every day;
how do you expect me to feel when every feeling i ever expressed was shoved back down my throat because it was too inconvenient for someone else;
how do you expect me to speak when i was trained to bite my tongue because i was always too intelligent for anyone else's comfort;
how do you expect me to live when all i've lived for was to satisfy the needs of those around me so i could feel worthy of the air in my lungs;
& when i say "you", i don't mean you, just you as one sole being, i mean everyone;
everyone i've ever met has expected something of me;
whether it be my body, my mind, my skills or my words,
my heart, my thoughts, my possessions or me;
& you my love, you are everything to me despite my contradictive actions,
because you're the only one who has ever taken a moment to look at me dead in the eyes & ask me with pure love & selflessness
well what do*  you  want...?
*...i wear your sweaters when you're asleep & i wear them when you're not home to remind me that you love me as much as i love you.
& you may be the only person that could truly know who i am.

For every tear I cry over you,
A piece of my heart falls too.
I long to be close to you,
To absorb all the salt in your veins.
You have every fiber of my being.
My atoms are yours.
I fell for you in winters piercing cold,
But I still love you in the spring.
My mind is an instrument that can only play your name,
every single chord.
To be adored by you,
Is a dream.
No amount of heroine could make me feel the way you do.
It’s immense euphoria with a constant head high.
When you tell me to leave,
You break the heart on my sleeve.
I was incapable of loving before I met you.
I was caught in a perpetual cycle, filled with sharp highs and deep lows.
Constantly trying to fill the void in my vacant chest.
But you touch me and breath life into my tar black lungs, you remind me there’s a heartbeat.
And being with you is my favorite thing to do
It’s only you.
I promise, it’s only you.