BPD is like that moment when you’re completely alone after a party and it’s late and you have to clean up and there’s no one left to help you and you realize that everyone was only there for the fun and not for you at all and you’re all alone with a mess you don’t have the energy to clean.
BPD is like your consciousness is in a glass box, separated from every feeling. You can see the feelings, notice them, they twirl around you, but you cannot access them and you feel distant and almost inhuman. You are trapped away from your body, unable to access it, just able to control it.
BPD is like flying on the broadest wings in a clear blue sky. The pure beauty surrounding you, peaceful and majestic. Floating on clouds, free and safe. You can see no danger, you can see no unhappiness, therefore it does not exist. Not to you. The world is good and vibrant and you are ecstatic.
BPD is like fire, destructive and ravaging and merciless. Endless anger, monstrous and terrifying and wild. It is being out of control and unstoppable, even if you want to stop. Destroying the things you love, breaking and burning and watching it all crumble in your own hands."
-Unknown
This is the truest, most accurate thing about BPD I have read in years. This is my personal hell, my roller coaster. It illustrates my soul and the hollow shell of what I could've been, surrounded by the burning ashes of what I am.
