I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from thiseven if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wrote this in 2004 and revised it recently. It’s not based on anything from real life.
hard truth
They’re driving back from the theater. All evening he’s been quiet and she wonders what is going on. She reaches for his hand but he won’t give it to her. She tries to look into his eyes and he looks away.She can feel him cold and distant. She no longer recognizes what is supposed to be “them”. With tears in her eyes, she says, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” he says as he’s still evading her eyes.
“Do you still love me?” she asks with a quivering voice.
“I’m sorry.I’m in love with someone else. It’s nothing you did. These things happen, I hope–
“STOP!” she yells. She’s barely holding it together at this point.
“I’m really sorry, I just want to-”
“STOP! I’m done with this. Stop the car.” she screams at him.
“You’re being crazy, at least let me-”
“NO. I want nothing from you! Stop the car NOW!”
“You need to calm — he stops mid sentence as he sees her taking off her seat belt and unlocking the door. He stops the car. He says, “I just want–”
“Fuck what you want” she says as she gets out of the car.
“But I-”
“There is nothing left to say”. She tells him. She walks away while she cries and laughs.She whispers to herself “fuck.once again”.
I love you but I hate you I miss you but you’re a jerk I desire you but your love is awful I want you here with me but you make me suffer I want to kiss you but you steal my calm I keep you in my heart but with you I lose my mind
I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was pregnant with my second child and mad at my boyfriend (future husband) for his lack of affection and attention to me. I was obviously very upset when I wrote this poem and instead of talking to him I wrote and bottled up my anger.
I wrote this poem in 2004 about my husband, then boyfriend. I guess I was mad about his lack of affection. As you can see, this is a pattern for me.I bottle my emotions up until one day I explode.
I wrote this in 2004 about my husband who I thought was being distant at the time. As you can guess, I don’t deal with rejection well at all and this is one example of many of how my mind deals with it.
Life on the BPD 