Thisfeelswrong - This Feels Wrong

i was so small and new when i was ruined, i never stood a chance

unfortunately, i am an attention whore.

also unfortunately, no matter what i do, i don't get the attention i crave.

Born to be clingy and obsessive, forced to be cool and nonchalant about things

and when all the distractions dont work anymore and its the end of the day, i’m left with just myself and the want for it all to please just fucking stop.

bpd is actually so crazy i cannot tell you how genuinely intense everything feels.

i get so, so upset during episodes over the smallest of things. it isnt just "oh im sad" either its fucking cutting myself, wanting to die, hyperventilating and begging and pleading and making a plan to kill myself because what im feeling genuinely seems like the end of the world. theres a void inside of me that can only be filled by a love so intense that it drives me to insanity. i will overeat, spend unnecessarily, hurt myself, cling and depend on people who give me the slightest bit of attention, send suggestive things of myself to others, and put myself in dangerous situations just to feel something. that void can only ever be truly filled by an fp. without one, i feel so, so empty. i truly feel like im nothing without them. their whole existence, getting to see and talk to them everyday, getting to be with them, is the whole reason that i continue to survive. the moment theyre gone, even for five minutes, its back to nothingness. i cannot feel without them, i physically cannot bring myself to. but having a fp is so, so painful. their mood determines mine. how they treat me will determine how i feel. everyone else compared to them feels miniscule and unimportant. i could be seriously harmed by another person or admired by another person and it wouldnt matter, because the only person whos opinion of me matters is my fp. i would cut off all of my friends just to be with them and them only. i would do anything to stay with them. and when they leave, you have to understand that my whole purpose has been torn away from me. my whole reason for continuing to live gets fucking ripped away from me. and when they ignore me? i put myself in dangerous situations, i hurt myself, just so theyll come and find me and save me, take care of me, feel bad for me. i try to make them feel the same pain they make me feel by ignoring them, purposely triggering them, trying to get back at them. i hate them, because what could be more important to you than me? i put you above all else, why cant you do the same? nobody else, nothing else, should be more important or as important than me, because thats how i feel about you. and fuck, it hurts so bad knowing my partners will never feel as intensely for me as i will for them, unless im their fp. it hurts knowing that theyll truly never feel the same level of obsession and want for me that i feel for them. that theyll never be able to fully return those feelings. but its so hard being mutual fps with someone. it drives you insane. it can lead to horrid situations.

bpd is so, so hard. i hate this disorder.

Sometimes I feel like I go above and beyond for people to make up for the fact that I’ll never be good enough and in hopes that it’ll distract them enough so they don’t notice and leave.

My brain is trying to latch onto something that might make me feel alive again, even if it’s a pathetic fantasy. It’s hard to sit with numbness. But deep down, I know nothing can fill the void I feel deep within my soul—that void that keeps getting deeper to the point where it will consume me one day. It’s hollowing me out from the inside, and I’m watching myself fade, but I don’t have the energy to stop it.

I’ve tried so hard not to let my depression define me, not to let it become my identity, but unfortunately, it has the upper hand. It controls everything—it has become me. Depression is so loud that I can’t hear anything else; it drowns everything out. I tried to convince myself that depression wasn’t me, that it was simply happening to me, but I failed. Depression has won. It has erased me completely, and it doesn’t seem willing to loosen its grip.

I miss the era of my functional depression now I’m just bedrotting. At least with functional depression I could still do things, still pretend, still have sense of normalcy. Now it’s just this heavy paralyzing nothingness.

I fucking hate looking in the mirror. Why the fuck do I look like that and why the fuck can’t I be different and how the fuck can anyone even tolerate being near me.