Fear. Overwhelming fear flows through my body when I think about it. It starts in the stomach. A small, inconspicuous tingling near the navel, which slowly, piece by piece, moves up the ribs. Rib for rib, I feel my chest tightening. Just like a corset that makes it harder to breathe. My breathing is getting faster, not so anyone would notice, but I can feel it. Like an unpleasant whisper, the fear spreads further and further until it finally manages to completely take over my head. From every side, thoughts are pounding at me, telling me it is going to be over soon. The heart would stop beating, and the blood would stop flowing. Any second could have come my time. Whether it is the pill with the side effects, a defect in the heart's stimulation transmission, a blood clot that gets trapped in the fine tracts of my brain, or the disease that is slowly taking over my body.
I can think of nothing but death. How does it feel to die? More importantly, how does it feel to be dead? No one knows an answer to it, and no one will ever know an answer to it. That is what makes death seem so threatening. The unknown. Knowing, that you know nothing. Is it a total darkness that envelops the body and clings tightly to you like a latex suit? Is it like falling that never stops and leaves you in a constant sense of weightlessness and uncertainty when you will smash on the ground? Is it like flying, like a feeling of freedom and redemption after a time of torment and suffering?
But the question that arises deep inside me is: Why am I so afraid of death? Is it the part of not knowing what awaits and the feeling of losing control; or is it the knowing of being unable to live anymore? Not to live anymore means not to feel anymore. No emotion that shakes your body so hard that it seems to tremble with laughter or shrink out of deep sadness. No more excited tingling when you see someone for the first time and want to get to know that person headlong. No gentle touch of two lips meeting for the first time after hours of endorphins running through your body, because you did not know if she liked you too, and every gentle touch of your bodies felt like someone was starting a huge firework inside of you. You never again feel the power of your own body coming up in you when you're angry. Never again feel the energy that then spreads through you, as if you could win all the Olympic Games on your own.
Not to live means not to feel; and not to feel means: there is nothing.
I love living. I want to feel every feeling there is to feel. I want to feel and absorb every tingling, every surge of energy, every laugh and every cry, every touch, and every word. I want to enjoy every ray of sunshine tingling the tip of my nose and watch every thunderstorm turn the sky into a spectacle for brief moments. I want to feel every stone in my shoe that makes me go crazy, while hiking in the woods and I want to enjoy every second I am standing next to the person I love and every glimpse into their gorgeous eyes that I can get.
That's why I'm so afraid to die, because I love to be alive.
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Thoughts with BPD
Разное!TW! This is my mind. I live with bpd wich means a long-term pattern of unstable interpersonal relationships, distorted sense of self, and strong emotional reactions. I mostly struggle with unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships, often a...
