#bpd journal

especially for those ppl who see me on bpd tags

Hi, I'm Marten she/they, I'm 19 and I was diagnosed with BPD 3 years ago.

This blog/tumblr/whatever is pretty much my venting spot and me coming to update and shit, to keep accountability on not only myself but people/events going on around me, because dissociation is a bitch and normal people remember shit ??? main TWs for my blog is self harm, drugs, sex/rape, eating disorders, uhm. i think thats about it, i don't want to trigger anybody at all.

Anyways, a little more about me, I have a boyfriend named Judas, I'm in school for cosmetology but I went to college for criminal/behavioral justice. Judas is my FP, hes the most perfect human being in the world. But, if you read my past posts, you might know why my previous statement about him is a little bit of a fallacy. Uhm. I'm a goth, I love bauhaus, the cure and bowie. a little bit of sisters of mercy and christian death, rozz williams is my dad. even tho i was born in 2001. yes.

I'm really interested in talking to other people with BPD, but i'm really private abt my identity, mainly because i don't want anybody irl to find my blog lmfao. my dms r open pretty much for anything, i know how it feels to be up splitting at 4 am and having nobody so. we can look out for each other.

.. any questions? idk.

I can't reason with you. I can't beg you. You tell me no silently day after fucking day and I ask myself, "How repulsed are you by me that we haven't had sex or even kissed since December?"

Sometimes it feels like we're open because you don't want to feel responsible for my much higher and more potent sex drive. I've never understood your hot and cold nature when it came to physical intimacy. You're either all over me or we barely even look at each other.

Ever since your friend with benefits disappeared, I've been feeling the consequences too. Because he ghosted you, you now ghost me? Even though we wear the same rings? Even though we share a business together? Even though we live in the same god damn house?

But alas, maybe you have a point. There's nothing wrong with withdrawing when you get your feelings hurt. It's not a crime to have a bruised ego even when you don't want to admit it. But it's always something with you. It's always designed to reflect back onto me that I'm "pressuring you." Because when I too was rejected and going through a dry spell with my subs, you assured me, "It looks like I have to step up then." And you didn't! Nothing changed! So I writhed and dehydrated in the desert. And now I'm here to help you fill that void and you barely pause the political videos on your phone. When I want to have a conversation, you sigh heavily at me and roll your eyes before you hit the pause button. And when you want to talk, you want to talk about the same political and doomsday bullshit that makes me uncomfortable. I grew up having those talks. I don't always want to have those conversations, but you are so insistent.

I can feel glory. I can taste absolution. Their attention is healing me from within. They don't know they want me yet. But they will. And I will be the one in charge! It will be my turn! To lift them up or let them down. To accept or reject. To pick and choose.

Oh god I'm burning. I can feel this invasive joy consuming me. Like a beam of focused sunlight, my burns with desire. Burns me to the bone. Leaves me as nothing but dust.

And yet a miracle on the horizon is a miracle that has not yet occurred. A revolution that hasn't started is just an idea that has not yet formed.

Even when we do the work, it never seems to end. Somedays it's great. Other times it's horrific. Our lives are lived in the space between.

New limits. New horizons. New endeavors. Same old pain. Same old sins. Same old drama.

Don't worry, I'm asking myself the same question as you. How long will this go on? How much longer until I am healed?

Maybe this isn't about healing? Maybe it's just screaming into the void as we hope to feel something? Anything?

What is oblivion? What do you imagine? A place? A black hole? Nothingness? Who knows?

The world is like one large screen that constantly changes channels. You're always adapting, trying to keep up. It's so strange. There's a frantic joy on the air. Like electricity. Like everyone is so happy, and you wonder, "They make it look so easy. Why don't I feel like that? Why don't I feel happy?"

It's happiness that drags you, moves you against your will. You must move. Fidget. Bounce. Dance. Because if you don't, you'll explode. All this fiery energy to burn even when your body is wrecked.

This skin doesn't fit. These clothes strangle me. Every voice a foghorn. Every whisper a scream. There is no balance on the borderline.

Calculating. Hypothesizing. A dark conjecture. False hopes and naive dreams. He loves me, but do I believe him? Do I even care?

Every is always spinning. There's no rest here, no matter if you were wicked, weary, or whatever.

They sold everything!

I'm thinking about him again.

I don't trust her.

I don't have a reason to trust anyone, but damn it, you know I'll trust them again anyway.

Happiness isn't happiness if it's forced.