yall: stop romanticizing your mental illness!
me at an expensive restaurant, seated across from my BPD with roses, candles and imported cuisine: no
More you might like
I hope you know in my tags I use the term ‘social justice warrior’ ironically. Many would still consider me to be one, and I’m sure many of you do if you catch the right post.
But really, anyone who uses the term ‘social justice warrior’ or anything of the like unironically cannot and should not be taken seriously.
I’m just an autistic with BPD and PMS taking my rage out on the rest of the world that doesn’t care about people like me.
I’d like to thank the lack of attention to the shoot up of a center for the developmentally disabled in Stockton, California for reminding me why I don’t run with the social justice crowd anymore.
My reality was so real to me that it didn’t matter whether it was right or not. My life literally depended on my version of reality, and it was killing me.
If it is important: go. Do not suffer pride as though languishing on hooks - you are not forgiving - flesh is not enough. There is a chord struck here: within is tempered. (If you must see L. then go.) Leave everything to blacken.
(In-days you would condemn your therapist. You find her too attractive, now too comely, too obscene with metaphor.)
In your hand: I am no longer able to do what is. It is this: I could crawl with you. What shatters around us - words are dark dark things - into the ice, but not back again. December strangles us: make it come.
I had a dream that I swallowed the whole world and when I threw up I threw up only a solitary eye. The white had yellowed. What horrors it had seen.
This was written in your hand: I cannot do this any more.
diary
2015 (via sterility)
2015 (via sterility)
- Me: *lowkey doesn't want to get better because then who will I be and how will I get attention*
- Me out loud: *says I highkey want to get better because if they know I don't everyone will hate me*