I Have No Real Personality, I'm Just Some Kind Of Monstrous Amalgamation Of The Personalities Of Every

I wish I had a group of friends to wander the city with

I am so tired and burnt out, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore

Vulnerable

eyes a septic kind of green

skin a paper-colored sheen

that covers up all of the things

I don’t want you to see in me

Having to live a future you didn’t think you’d be alive for is so fucking hard

Having bpd really is like playing life on the hardest difficulty it has to offer. When you're upset, it's like grief. When you're mad, it's like fighting back the rage of a warrior. When you're numb, it's absolutely debilitatingly so, and when you're dissociated, it's like nothing on this planet, including yourself, exists or is even real anymore. It's a constant battle of fighting against your own body's extremely out of control instincts. It's not supposed to be this hard to simply interact with other human beings and yourself, is it?

"Why are you so negative?"

Because growing up, nothing ever went right, so now I just expect things to go wrong. I expect abandonment, so I either cling on or push away, I expect things to not work out because that's what I've known. Whether it's a relationship, a goal, anything.

I also just have a severely low self-esteem that was consistently reinforced.

It's true that I can be positive when it comes to others' lives. I believe others can heal and become the best versions of themselves, I believe anyone else can deserve happiness and love. Me, on the other hand? Nah.

My troubled dreams