Alive and kicking

Sometimes I just love Facebook’s “On this day” feature. It reminds you each and everyday that you did something stupid exactly these many years ago. But more importantly, it reminds you of how much you’ve grown.

Guess what today is? My attempted suicide day :). The intended “last post” of that day popped up and I was simply amazed. It has been 3 years already?

So much has happened over the last 3 years. Got a job that I love, fought back BPD/depression little by little and made quite a bit of new friends. Still no girlfriend though. But I’m ALIVE!

Strange though, how I shared the joy of this day with my closest friends and they didn’t seem amused. Especially the one that saved me that day. Oh well, never mind. People often don’t realize how much impact they could have over someone’s life anyway 🙂

By the way to this day I still don’t get why I got 10 likes for that ‘last post’. Just likes, no comment, no message, no nothing. Imagine how that would be in real life: walking by someone’s window, seeing them about to hang themselves and just saying ‘hi’. Bizzare, no?

Lastly, some words for those who are still struggling, including me: don’t quit. I know what it was like hitting rock bottom. I know what it was like to drown. I know what it was like to look for the easy way out. But don’t. Just breath. Stop thinking. Grab someone. The closer the better. Let them know your problems – yes, it’s all real, don’t be afraid to let them know that. Talk it out. You’re alive, just breath.

Don’t you hate it

When somebody just barge into your world, make herself at home in your mind and mess up everything that was your normal life?

I was fine before all this. I was fully devoted to my work. I could happily sit at my desk and code all day long and doesn’t give a damn about the world outside. Sure, I know my life is so miserable and sad compared to others, but I try hard not to let myself feel that way. And in some way, that worked. I don’t feel as miserable as I should be, and that’s a good thing.

Then she came. Just like that. In my mind. Now suddenly I can’t concentrate on my work. Now suddenly I have to think about her, because she is there – in my mind palace. I don’t know what to do with her. I don’t even know if I want her to stay in my mind.

People come and go, I know that. In fact, I expect that. It has been so long since anyone has stayed with me that I don’t know if anyone will ever want to. Again, I don’t know what to do. I want people to understand me but if they don’t, I won’t try to keep them. I don’t want to waste people’s time. So I keep letting people go and before I realized it, there’s no one left. Well, if that is how it’s gonna be, let it be.

So it annoyed me to great ends that my brain has decided to think about someone, without my permission. I don’t want to, because I have just managed to stabilize my emotions. For someone with BPD that is a lot of effort. The rollercoaster of emotion isn’t gonna do me any good, so why make me go though all of that again? I don’t want to feel anything towards her because I know she won’t feel anything towards me, so it’s just a waste of time. I do not want  to stuck in this endless struggle of wanting to do something and expecting something to happen yet not knowing exactly what I want to happen.

Chasing Pavements. That song struck so close to home. I have never know what love is. My very first ‘relationships’ was a disaster. This is just like going to the pool right after nearly drowned there. You kinda want to go into the water, but the experience from last time still terrifies you. So you sit awkwardly on the side, wondering why you are even here, looking at people having their fun, possibly while mocking you.

I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Just tell me what to do. Please?

Fear of being abandoned.

Why is it that a BPD does what she does? What is the root cause of it all? Easy. The only that matters to them. Fear of being abandoned.

To strangers, someone with BPD may not seems like anyone out of ordinary. And they completely believe her when she says “I’m fine”. Which is actually good. Because she knows they are strangers, she knows they are already on the outside and thus unable to come into her world to hurt her, to leave her wounded. She knows they haven’t done anything wrong because there is nothing for them to do. And so, her interaction with the world ‘outside’ is completely normal, devoid of any storm that is ravaging her souls inside.

What storm you ask? Well, if you know then you don’t need to ask, if you ask then you don’t need to know. The problem is when she start having people inside her world. Either because they were stranded there or they were pulled in, as in having a crush or making new friends. The closer they are to her, the stronger the storm. Storms caused by even the slightest gesture people do that makes she thinks “they are running away from me”. And thus a series of drama that alternate between “please stay with me” and “get the fuck out of my world”. The BPD doesn’t want anyone to leave, but she knows painfully well that if they do, there is nothing she can do to stop it. It’s obvious why BPD would want people to stay, but why are there difficult times that she just want to world to vanish and leave her alone? Well, it’s because when she start to realise that they want to leave her (or simple thought she realise that), she will – almost as a reflex – to compartmentalized the offending person. She don’t want to hurt herself over those people who want to leave anymore, and so she tries as hard as she can to push them out, to make them disappear from her world. Doing so while at the same time wanting them to stay will cause a great deal of pain to her. And the worst kind of pain too – psychologically. It hurts so bad that she have to find relief in cutting herself, partly to cause attention, but primarily because physical pain is much easy to bear with – you know where it hurts and how it can be stopped. There are some sort of biological process that apply a natural painkiller whenever the body is wounded, and it also have sedative properties. So by cutting or wounding herself, the pain inside becomes slightly easier to deal with and at least, it allows her to sleep.

To offending person though, a BPD is just straight up batshit crazy. She doesn’t understand what the hell is going on. All she ever did what saying or doing something that is perfectly normal yet the BPD just seems to be overreacting in every wrong way possible. And so, it is a lot easier for people to leave than to stay and deal with the mess that is the BPD. A BPD can have a crush on someone, and then go insane over all the little things they do ‘wrong’, thus pushing them away. Then she will find herself again, in the same old place, with a blade in her hand and cut marks on the other. She felt chills all over her body when she thinks about her crush. She wants to jump off the top of the building just to make it all go away. She doesn’t know how to live in this world. She never learn that the world doesn’t care about her. She never learn that the world doesn’t need her. She never learn that the only one who will be there with her, comforting her, holding her hands – is herself.

Only her.

When anger fades and the guilt creeps in.

auto-9gag-1459914As usual, too many people and too many outside stimuli cause me to flare up. I felt like I could have burst at any moment and may harm myself or worse, other people. It’s ironic how I am made worse with people around, yet I worry more about how I look to them rather than how I should worry about myself.

And of course, the people who suffered the most from my angst were the one I held dear. The ones that I expect to know better. The ones that should have been there for me. Especially the girl I’m having that unbearable crush on. I don’t know what is happening anymore (do I ever?). Inside my head, I blame her for every single bad thing that I do, yet I know painfully well that it’s only me. How can somebody ever like somebody like me? But. But I think I love her so much now that I just can’t walk away. I swore to the cut marks on my hands that I would leave her alone and never to speak to her again, yet I still went out and buy her stuff. I want her so much that after all the trouble I caused to push her away from me, I sent her another friend request, again. And now that I have calmed down, away from all the noise, I am living in the guilt of acting the way I did.

I have only realised this just today, but my boss is a terribly nice lady. The way she treated me, for me it felt like a sister helping her mischievous brother through tough times. Which is the one person I have always wanted in my life: a sister. It could help changed my life tremendously, who knows?

Senseless rant, again.

And, as always, I need a hug.

Hard to breath

I don’t know. Like there is no room to for me to breath any more. Like suddenly everyone is actively trying to stop me from breathing. What the fuck is going on around here?

Workplace is too noisy. I fucking swear it is. At any given point there would either be someone whistling or laughing or talking or telling jokes or fucking singing. And sometimes it’s all one person. And sometimes it’s fucking right next to me. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?? It’s fine if it’s the occasional banter or if your favorite song is playing but an ENTIRE DAY is unacceptable. My brain is having enough trouble as it is to concentrate, I don’t need someone sitting just half a meter from me to fidgeting and whistling all day long. Nobody in their right mind would put such a person sitting right next to me just to “liven it up”. Goddamnit. And what’s worse? Everyone seems to be just fine with it and if I raise it up I would be just a stuck up soab who just there to kill the fun. You know what? Fuck your fun.

Getting too emotional lately. Mostly coming from the fact that I’m having yet another crush on someone. And while this time it does have its moments but again, it all comes down to be just me dreaming it all up. Is it wrong to want someone who cares about you as much as you do them? Is it wrong to be upset when it’s just you trying to achieve something? Is it right to demand someone to change when you can’t seem to understand why they are where they are? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I am by no means a good person. I am a sick soab. I want people’s attention like a 5-years-old and cry like one when I don’t get it. And no, not people, just one person. I want that person to appreciate the fact that I want to be with HER when I’m down. It’s not like I would just go to anyone when I’m troubled. I am running out of friends. People are moving on with their lives. I have no life to move on. I want to be dragged along. I’m lost when left alone. I want the right person to ask me what’s wrong. I want, I don’t know, a hug? A hand to hold? Or at least just show up. I have nothing. When I’m at rock bottom it’s because I sank there, not because I dived. So please pull me up. Don’t just stand on the shore calling me over. I won’t. I can’t. And I am too proud and too shy to admit any of this. I am afraid of letting people know I’m just that weak. Everybody keeps telling me to happy yet nobody shows me what the fuck “happy” means. Keeps telling me to change yet nobody want to accept who I really am. Isn’t trying to change to please people the root cause of depression? Like wearing a mask to hide your face. People love the mask and hate the face. And they only want the mask. As long as I can supply jokes, food and brainpower, I am supposed to be fine. Nobody wants to touch the muddy waters below, yet that’s where I am. As long as the bubbles are still rising, they assume I would be fine down there.

Until the bubble bursts.

I can’t breath.

It’s getting harder to remember what feelings feel like.

Funny story. It was a spur of the moment thing when I decided that I should have a place to write out my thoughts and feelings. Thing is, now I only write when I don’t even know what to put into words.

It was less than half a year ago I think. For some reasons, I decided that I had “too much feelings” and putting those up as meaningless status on Facebook (meaningless for readers, not for me) was never enough. I want people, someone, anyone to know and share these feelings I had. I wanted to share how I like the girl from some manga I read. I wanted to discuss details of a movie I watched. I wanted a conversation. Only the ones who I wanted to do those with was not interested. The ones who was, I didn’t feel the same about. I felt out of sync.

But at least I felt something. Now? Remembering those times when I have feelings is like remembering a dream. You just know that you have it but can’t recall exactly what it is. Finally I understand when artists put it along the lines of “a world without color”. You know the colors, you know what they should look like. But. You. Just. Don’t. See. It.

Just finished reading a light novel called “5cm Per Second”. I keep telling myself I should have some thoughts, some lingering feelings about it. But I don’t. I just don’t.

Loneliness doesn’t come from having no one around you, but from being unable to communicate the things that are important to you.

It’s all fun and games until you realise nobody is there when the laughter ends

I have always joked about having an alternative personality inside of me, that of a girl. Sometimes I even say that it is actually my real one. But no, I don’t have it. I have feminine traits, yes, but not enough to form a ‘personality’. I guess it’s just a way for me to create a protection bubble for myself – to feel safe in it.

This sort of unresolved crisis leaves individuals struggling to “find themselves.” They may go on to seek a negative identity, which may involve crime or drugs or the inability to make defining choices about the future. “The basic strength that should develop during adolescence is fidelity, which emerges from a cohesive ego identity”.

[…]

They often seem to have no idea who or what they are, where they belong or where they want to go. They may withdraw from normal life, not taking action or acting as they usually would at work, in their marriage or at school. They may even turn to negative activities, such as crime or drugs, as a way of dealing with identity crisis. To someone having an identity crisis, it is more acceptable to them to have a negative identity than none at all.

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