It walks among the living and sings among the dead.
But, nobody else can see it.
This monster's cold, snakelike arms wrap themselves around me tight.
I fight back, helpless against it, because it doesn't want to set me free.
She wants to hold onto me for safekeeping-
No.
She wants to consume me, for she is a hungry beast and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.
What she wants is my mind,
But I don't want to give it to her.
I strive to find a sense of peace in this wretched struggle against my captor.
She constantly whispers in my ear seductively to do things I know I should not do.
I used to do these things anyway.
I don't do them now.
But, maybe if I did, then she'd stop beckoning me to do them.
Her name is BPD, short for Borderline Personality Disorder.
She may be a monster,
But she's closer than a friend.
She's been there since the beginning,
And will be here until the very end.
In her arms,
I've made myself a home.
You see, being mentally ill isn't easy.
I can confide in her all of my feelings,
And she never invalidates me.
Although she is my captor,
She's been here through thick and thin.
Sometimes I think she wants me to succeed in life,
But sometimes I swear she wants me dead.
After all, she's the source of the terrible thoughts circling around in my head.
Because of her,
I walk on eggshells,
Not knowing when or where I should step.
Because one moment I can e fine.
Two seconds later, I'm not.
I can hear her cackling all around me,
And I beg her to stop.
It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair,
I repeat to myself.
Why can't I be normal?
What even is "normal," anyway?
I've been held captive for so long,
I've forgotten what life was like without her.
But I will not, can not lose hope.
For, one day soon,
I will break free from her dark, binding tendrils.
I've made it this far,
And I'm not giving up.
