The BPDiary Part 1

It's All Too Much

Everything hurts. How the fuck do people survive those huge splitting episodes that consume every part of your body?
It lies under your skin, it seeps into your brain like a constant fucking leak thats dripping, dripping, dripping.
It has you in a chokehold so tight it suffocates every single thought you have thats remotely positive.
It's like a constant alarm that won't stop ringing and no matter what you do, you can't turn it off. There is no snooze button.
It's like holding your head underwater until you reach a breaking point of desperation for one single inhale of fresh air.
You'll never get that breath - you're always drowning, there's no getting out alive.
You're constantly on edge, you're constantly paranoid, you're at the brink of smashing your surroundings with a crowbar, yet you don't actually know why. Everything hurts and you can't make it go away. It's constant - and I mean constant. It doesn't just go away. It's full blown adrenaline.
You're praying your loved ones won't leave you this time around. You're praying they won't turn their back on you because this just. Keeps. Happening. This is the one time you need them the most but they're too afraid to help you because we keep going through this.
I'm sorry I keep hurting you - I'm desperately crying out for help, I don't know why it's coming out this way but please don't leave me.
How do loved ones know how to help you when you don't know how to help yourself?
You're terrified you're ruining everything for yourself because no one understands why your brain works the way it does.
Why do I work this way? You don't even know your own thought process. Maybe it's pleading for help, for a way out.
Hold me, rock me, tell me that I'm okay, that I'm not a fuck up. A waste of energy, organs, blood, skin.
I'm a wired bomb thats about to detonate. I need diffusing but no one knows what the wiring fucking means. I don't know how to do it.
It's the constant shame and guilt for being unable to regulate your own emotions.
Maybe this is why we resort to the physical pain, so it can weigh out the constant mental pain even on the good days.
Those few endorphins you release for a few sweet seconds makes everything just stop.
No alarms, no dripping, no ringing. Your head is above the water and you know how to defuse the bomb.
Those split seconds of pure numbness will constantly have you craving for more.
Maybe that's why the suicide seems like an ideal route out. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to that edge every day, every episode, everytime I split.
It's a sick and twisted spiral that will never end unless you 'do it'. It plays over and over everyday. Everything hurts.