The Hurricane Within Me
I'm lost again. My identity is nothing more than a floating existence with a name. I lie in bed and loathe myself, tears streaming down my face collecting on my pillow. I ask myself why repeatedly already knowing the answer but it never seems to quell the cycle. My chest is tight and a ceaseless pounding echos in my head. It's all my fault, it's always MY fault. If I could be anything but what I am it would've never happened like this. Prettier, smarter, thinner, fatter, ANYTHING but what I AM and it would've never happened like this. This has been my routine, this has been my daily endeavor. Any slight inconvenience, a loss of love or loved one, any change in stability or routine throws me into a whirlwind of lost. I try to hide it from the world but it shows, oh does it show. Living with borderline personality disorder is like living in a constant hurricane. The clouds churn and there is no clarity in sight. You try to ease the storm and for a moment, after enough alcohol, pills, the brief attention from another being, anything you can get your hands on, you might create an artificial eye of the storm. A temporary calm. But it's still there, forever lurking and after your eye passes you find you've only given it more power. The guilt and remorse of your effort to stop the chaos only fuels it and on you rage.
