existing with borderline is terrifying.

“Is he off his meds again?” What, am I still borderline again? Hmm? Is that what you’re asking?

Well then. Why don’t you say what you fucking mean? Genuine question. I mean it genuinely. In the most genuine way. Go fuck yourself.

I don’t trust myself. At all. But hey, no fucks to give, no fucks to lose.

Wish I did though. Trust myself, that is.

I forget what it’s like to recognize the voice in my head just having thoughts.

It’s… something.

Always jumping around.

Switching identities. Yes, identities. You think I’m joking? I wouldn’t say that word - identities - if it wasn’t the only right word for what goes on in me.

One day I’ll want something so completely and the next I’ll feel like offing myself.

One day I’ll be looking at the world and relationships realistically, you know, grounded in actual reality, and the next I’ll be feeling like I can fly like literally making up reasons why I might have a shot with people who I never will.

It’s serious. Seriously an issue. A serious disorder. Not-so-serious personality. Haha.

I fucking hate this piece of shit I’ve become. Just settling for pornographic satisfaction. Putting myself in potentially dangerous situations online. Who knows? Not I.

It’s serious. Why won’t anyone take me seriously? Because it’s serious.

It’s serious. I’m serious.

Maybe that’s why I’ve done all this.

I’m just so lonely.

Like I want people to love me but I’m also covered in razor-sharp spines just in case.

Back to the identity thing.

I don’t know who I am right now. Seriously.

Isn’t it serious? Can I just get better? Can I just get sunlight? Can I just try harder? What the fuck?

If I don’t make it till the morning, know I tried. But I don’t know who I am, man. So when the sun rises…I’m sorry, but I don’t remember what name’ll be written on my grave.