My wrist has a rhythm, a gentle but persistent pulse as the injured nerve endings cry out in unison. Terror fills the veins, the blood, the severed tissue. Layer by layer as the wispy fibers that allow your skin to be an ironclad wall begin to quiver. Trembling, the echo of stell gnashes and gnarls... Continue Reading →
"Giving up is not something I take lightly, and making a conscious choice to do it again is a toss up for me."
"I'm not talking a little campfire that you toast your little smores' over."
"The messages are ignored by most, mocked by some, and understood by none."
"Gather one, gather all, for I have a story to tell."
"Saying he was cryptic is an insult to the word itself, so I can't even say that."
"There are even some professionals to this day that don't believe that BPD's actually exist."
"The shadow, my precious observer. He's personality number 3, and here is his life."
How can one be so tired after only living for 25 years? It's easy, really. Not even a challenge. What comes to me naturally is what makes me so exhausted. Fibro, PTSD, BPD, anxiety, Major Depressive Disorder. Even just one of those things can tear a person down over the course of a few years.... Continue Reading →
I refused to sleep with him. You might not believe me, but for several months I absolutely refused. I insisted on taking the moral high-ground and refused to cross that line. I can't do that again, I told myself. I can't be the side chick again, I reminded myself. Despite my previous transgressions, I apparently... Continue Reading →
The Borderline 