This White Guy In Our Neighborhood's HOA Is Trying To Dissolve It Because Nearly All The Members Are

falling asleep feeling empty and hollowed out and i cant cry anymore bc i literally have zero tear ducts and my stomach feels funny and i think everyone wants me gone

bpd culture is 'they didn't reply for 5 hours so i won't reply for 5 hours either' and then messaging back instantly as soon as they msg you!

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I feel like im stuck at 15 forever and ill be 25 and thinking about the fact my brain stopped thinking at 15

I wish I knew forever would end so soon

I wish I never kissed you in my living room

You wonder how I'm doing, well, here's a clue

I wish I never met you

i'm terrified of the day i've grieved you longer than i've loved you

sometimes the tragedy of distance is very simple. i want to get groceries with you

sometimes i think about how others may have perceived me; of course, the thought of being perceived itself brings about a disgusting turn in my stomach as i cannot handle being another person's momentary topic. i wonder if i had ever caused great pain for being neglectful as i'm sure i am. i ignore and ignore because i need to ignore the voices in my head and it's easier to do that when you aren't thinking of anyone else. i wonder if i ever broke someone's heart, if they ever thought of me and felt an ache because i was worth not losing, and keeping up with. i wonder if i ever caused a wave in someone's life that was bright enough to be noticed when it wasn't there. i wonder if someone thought of me months later and wished we still talked, if we had moments together that we could have repeated. i know i'm neglectful and i know i'm terrible at showing i care and sometimes i wonder if i do. do i care? am i just really cold blooded inside and don't give a fuck about making others happy? it doesn't matter, because either way, i'm sure i hurt some people at some point in time. or i could just be delusional. i could just be cellophane, or a ripple in the water as i drift from people's lives. i could just matter for a moment and be erased from memory from hence forth, and i'm aware it is because of my own abilities, or the lack thereof. i suppose i'm not afraid of not being wanted, i'm afraid of being forgotten. i think about people that played the smallest roles in my life, and how little i could care about them, and yet how i obsessed i can become with them. i wonder if they remember me and if they think about me sometimes, i wonder if they care that i'm alive, and that i'm not doing well. i wonder if they know i have this sickness and i want to end it all every day, but really i just wonder if they would care to know any of this. i was nothing to them, and i will always remain as such, i want to be remembered, i want to be thought of as gently and intimately as possible because i'm not sure how else i want to be perceived and known. it won't happen but i just want and want and want. i want everything i want people to know and i want people to care and i want people to see and see and see i want people to lunge their hand into my heart and pull it out and eat up the blood and the pain and i want them to understand how i feel and i want my pain to be their pain and for us to be lost in the middle somewhere and i want them to care because we are parts of each others and they can't abandon me now

some nights i feel so alone that a bubble balloons up in my stomach and dares to pop and im terrified that my mood will explode with it and ill have no emotions left and i will just be left empty with scattered organs and mindless memories of a simpler time when i felt the warmth of another body and could connect but the present is so cold

i think about my mother and what she had to let go to take care of me. i think about the photo of her when she was young, her eyes bright and golden, maybe she passed them to another child in another world. i think about how she didn't grow up, i think about the pain she was inflicted with to prove herself of her womanhood, of the burden she earned when she had children. i think about being in her womb, warm and parasitic, sucking the life force out of her, making her losing all locks of her dark, long hair. i think about her drastic weight loss, i think about her face holes, i think about her sudden shift in mood and satisfaction. i think about how i was the end to my mother, how i brought death to her the moment i was born and months i laid in her womb. i think about her mother calling her every other day, wishing she could see her and embrace her. i think about the nights my mother misses my grandmother, and how i wish she didn't have to be with me instead. i think about my mother and it aches because no matter how hard i try, i can never be gentle with her. i think about how i hate her with so much fury, but never wipe her watering eyes when she wanders. i think about how i love her to the point a part of me breaks and shakes and dies, but i can't show it without shouting and screaming and yelling. i think about how my mother yearns to be hugged and embraced by her own mother, how i wish i could be that for her, how i want to coddle her and kiss her forehead and tell her everything will be alright. i think about how my mother has crossed oceans for me to sleep beside me on lonely nights, how her mother would cross the same oceans to wash her hair, how i can't even seem to reach out to her and hold her close. i think about my mother shampooing my hair, and how warm her hands are, how safe i feel so bare infront of another human being, how the love from the womb comes back.