I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame
slowly I fade away until I’m nothing
I don’t recognize who I am
Friends tell me I’ve changed
I tell them they’re crazy
messages appear in dreams
I’m living a fake life
who am i? who am i? who am i?
Life on the BPD 
I don’t know if it’s reassuring or disquieting to realize that no matter how old we get, a crush and love interest will always feel like an upheaval.
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