I was floating in honey. The viscosity of the substance Made it so that, while I still needed to work To keep my head afloat, I had a little extra support. So I didn't have to do it alone. And it was good.
But my temperature began to rise. I became too hot too fast, and, Because of my actions I started to destroy the beneficial parts That the honey needed to remain useful and healthy. So the honey reacted: Threw my melting self out of its jar. I tried to jump back in But the honey firmly ******* its lid back on, And my charring fists Fruitlessly pounded on the boundary The honey had erected.
Then as my body and brain burned, The other honey jars disappeared- Distancing in acts of self-preservation. I knew how I could get my temperature Back to baseline. I just needed a little help So I could work to get back to my normal self. But my actions had pushed away what I needed. So I accepted the fate I had caused, And allowed my body to fall to ash.
i wrote this after my therapist of 8ish years dropped me after two years of long-term residential pysch places just when i was ready to drop back down to the level of care she provided. that was 2 years ago, and although i've since learned that her remaining with me for so long was unethical, it still hurts and i still blame myself.
Personality disordered, untamed ardor explores every river delta and corner forked; borderline morphs.
Formless torment disorients, roaring torrent force forging its course, divorcing arboreal forest floor into a gorge.
Clear mirror gorgeously adorned with floral orchard, adored; stream looks on in horror, forlorn- shore a formidable fortress stormed, water waging war on brambles, thorny swords, and flourishing orchids scorned; armored only by rain's discord and fresh petrichor worn.
I've been gone for a while Not seen or heard Hiding away from the harsh reality of life I've tried to get involved and I've tried my best But every time I try I only feel stressed I'd love to be able to stay inside Away from the pain and away from the sound of others bleeding my ears Do this Do that You're doing it wrong Try again Yet every time I try I feel like a part of me is dying inside I want to be free and I want to be me But when I am true you say you hate what I have become So what is it that you truly want? Because each time I ask you, you simply look me in the eyes and say "I want you to get better"
Mainly focusing on a past relationship while I was struggling with my mental health
i wonder if my suicide attempt did in fact **** me and this is hell. with each one, it seems to get worse.
time always moves backwards and then suddenly it’s forward. i live in my memories. flashbacks. nightmares. nightmares if i sleep at all. and when i don’t, the friends behind my ear keep me company. the roommates in my head drown me and blur my vision. i feel red in my eyes when i get this way. the stars fall like the burning fireballs they are and the screams are unbearable and the cries are aching and my heart is being pulled out of my chest like flowers off its root. when i’m this way, i’d rather die.
parties isolate me. loneliness swallows me in screaming and begging. how did i get this way? i don’t want it. take it from me. maybe then i’ll be able to live happy.
borderline personality disorder and bipolar disorder tg ****