love and hate, 1





     How to describe?

     I have several drafts, none of which I’ve published.  I get inspired, get on a roll, get going.  I have to get it all down before it’s gone.


     Cuz …  Once it’s gone, it’s gone.  And chances are, it will go.  And once it does, most likely it ain’t comin back.

     I thank god whom I don’t believe in nearly every single day that my brain is still intact.  At least most of it.  Cuz it could be completely gone, after all.  I could just be brain dead.  Or just plain dead.

     You see, I almost drank it away, my brain.  Maybe I tried.  I just wanted to be completely obliterated – or at the very least quite pleasantly inebriated – almost all of the time.


     I succeeded for a good long while.  Once I started blacking out I guess you could say it was working.  A blackout drunk is indeed completely obliterated.  Hence the blackout.


     There are many life points, headspaces, subjects, and other things which are love-and-hate for me.  One of them is probably “writing”.  The reasons above would be why.  Memory, inspiration.  Concentration.


     “Writing”.  I use quotation marks around writing cuz it’s a touchy subject for me.  Over time i’ve come to look at things differently than i once did.  I’ve studied words and language and the meanings and implications behind them.  Not in depth, but as part of the curriculum in women studies and also my own personal scholarly pursuits.


     I’ve realized that yes, words – and the words we choose – often say much more than we realize.  You know what I mean:  everyone’s a writer.


     I used to be a writer.  I’ve decided that the label can be self-aggrandizing at times and therefore don’t wish to use it.  Other reasons will remain unaddressed for the time being.

     As I say,

“I’m not a writer.  

I just write.  It’s what I do.”



     I still have my intelligence, my curiosity, my love of exploration and learning.  I still possess great examination and analytical ability.  But …  I get easily distracted, randomly confused.  That’s part of the reason for the unfinished  drafts.  I lose track of things, even my own thoughts.  That scares me.  What’s next?  What else will diminish?  I dare not ask.  The answer(s) might kill me.  Slowly or instantly, it’s best to keep this mind safe from them.  It’s been through enough already.  Sometimes it fights to hold on, to stay in control.  At times, to stay alive.  The next section says why.

     So back to “love and hate”.  Lately I’ve had very strong desires to get wasted.  Not like whacked, offed, buy the farm.  Wasted like high as a fucking kite.  Maybe even fubar’ed.  Not just impulses, which happen and are a normal part of life in recovery.  I mean like I want to GTFO here …  And maybe never even come back.


     Suicide?  Yeah, that too.  Thoughts of “I just  want to fucking die” have been appearing in my head often, randomly, for the last few months.  And no, I have no plans to do it, so don’t fret.  Nor do I plan to actually go get fucked up.  That’s “partier” and user speak for wanting to get more than buzzed.  Fucked up.


     i haven’t talked w/my shrink about it since february.  It’s complicated as to why.  So I find now that I’m saying it here.  Hmm.  Better than actually doing it, I guess.  Lmfao


     Sometimes I even feel like I’m losing my mind.  It feels as though my mind is fracturing.  I cannot put it into words.  These are things I want to tell my shrinks.  Yes, plural.  I have 2 shrinks for different things at different times.


     I need at least one more.  Just for me and my remaining mind.  One to help me btend to my head.  Meds …  Well that’s another post lol.


     Love and hate.  The things go on.  It’s hard to communicate.  That’s Just me and a part of my BPD, PTSD, C-PTSD, MDD and wtf.  Lol


     Love and hate.  We can love so deeply and can hate so deeply.   And sometimes the two are intertwined … so deeply.

     This is just me.  And this is BPD.




love and hate, 1

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