Tip for the next guy who sees me enjoying by myself on a dance floor – whatever you do just don’t text me. I mean please just save me from your bullshit and leave my happiness alone.

When they seek you and charm you – you who could never trust someone again, you who couldn’t believe in good things because good things never last – you tell them your fears, you tell them everything, and they still pursue you and drink from you until you’re empty; only to rob you off the last bit of life you have.

After meeting him for the first time, I recall sending him this text. He was well aware of my distress. Yes, I was frightened. Because he was so charming and breathtakingly cute, my heart was in peril. I couldn’t believe he really liked me as much as he kept claiming. It was surreal. I just had a feeling that I’d not survive this if it didn’t work out. I was so hesitant after the last quarter of 2021, I’d been through so much crap that I’d had enough. But he asked to believe him, dream with him, and hope with him. He promised he would never abandon me and that he loved me.

Despite my skepticism, I didn’t want to spoil a good thing because I was scared it wouldn’t work out when everything had gone so well up to that point. So I closed my eyes and leapt, trusting that he’d catch me. Spoiler: he didn’t. My skin peeled and bled through the holes he punched as he dropped me to the ground through what felt like bloody thorns.

He leaves me nine days after we first met, bloody nine days. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend six days after and the entirety of the whole things has just been 17 days. This was the modern-day equivalent of “How to Lose a Guy in 17 Days,” but without a happy ending. The pain I felt when he told me he couldn’t be with me anymore was unbearable. I begged him to stay and not break my heart this way. He walked away, he’d made up his mind. And now I struggle to stay alive – from his sick need to give love then take it all away. So in spite of it all, after all the explanations and everything, this too ends in goodbye. Bless my heart.

I know it seems ridiculous that something so fleeting can have such an impact on me. But it does, which is just the story of struggling with BPD.

I will let you go, I promise that. 
I just need a minute, just one more minute to breathe in what will always be the last of us.

Losing you could’ve killed me.
Yet, I lost you. And lived anyway. 

They say love happens only once. 
Yet I fall, every single time I see you. 

And it was then I realized how I couldn’t carry you around, not with me or even in my purse.

I had to let you go, and mean it this time. 

So I tore up your name, and dropped it like the mistake that you were. 

I’ve been breaking my own heart; believing good things actually do come.

Hanging on to every goodbye, living every definite lie.

I don’t know how, where or when.
But love I do, I love you.
You loved me into loving you.