They say distance makes people drift apart,
but with you, it only pulls me closer—
so close it terrifies me.
I want you by my side,
or at least on the other end of the phone.
That's the best part of my day,
just knowing you're there,
even in silence—
even when we're fighting.
Because right now,
this is as close as I can get to you,
and God, does it hurt.
My BPD brain doesn't understand
that I love you the way you love me.
Every time the doubt creeps in, I whisper,
It's just the BPD. It'll pass.
It's just emotion. It's not real. He loves you.
I try to hold on,
try to keep the thoughts at bay,
because I want this to work.
But it's so damn painful.
And I don't know how much longer I can take it.
I feel like a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode.
And I don't want to,
because what if I lose you?
Then the voice comes back,
louder, sharper.
Push him away.
Let go.
It'll be easier.
And maybe it's right—
maybe alone, I wouldn't have to fight this war.
But alone, I'd lose you.
The one who stays.
The one who loves me despite it all.
So I beg my mind to be quiet,
just for a little while.
But the silence only makes it scream louder.
And I listen,
even when I don't want to.
I wish I were different.
I wish I weren't this way.
I wasn't born a monster,
but I was made into one.
Now I am at war with myself,
caught between holding on
and letting go.
And I feel like I'm losing.
I feel like I'm rotting.
Lying in bed, waiting for it to end,
knowing deep down—
it never really will.