Thoughts. Musings. Electrical Synapses.

Borderline Personality Disorder, Self Harm and everything in between.

Advice from a friend:

“Don’t travel until you are ready to say goodbye.


This has always been a confusing thing for me: how long to wait until having sex with someone, or if waiting is rather pointless? Is there no right or wrong waiting time?

I would really like to read opinions on this.

“I love sleep. …

“I love sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I’m awake.”

Ernest Hemingway

June 30, 2013

It’s been a year since we first met face to face. We hugged as if we had known each other forever, and it always felt like that. The night was electric, and you felt like coming home.

You became my best friend and lover. We would talk about anything, and not once there was rejection or finger pointing, only acceptance and empathy. Neither of us owned anything, all we could offer each other was ourselves, which made it pure and authentic.

When we were out, I was always you’re girlfriend or your wife, not just a friend, even though we both knew different. You tried to stay, but language barriers and other situations that arose made you return to your country.

Since you left we talked on the phone and texted everyday, these last few months it has been sporadic, not constant. I’ve tried to detach myself, which is why I never initiate communication, but when I least expect it you’re there, reminding me it was real and that the distance between us is a huge gap.

That summer I learned something very valuable: that love is about appreciating that other soul and its beauty, without trying to cage it and possess it, love is freedom.


Mad Girl’s Love Song

By Sylvia Plath

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”


I’m in bed, the night is deadly silent, except for the crickets and the repetitive, soft sound of the fan.

I don’t feel a thing. Gradually I’ve developed apathy for almost everything, nothing moves me.

What have I become? I wonder if this is worse than the storm of feeling everything too deeply. My face is inexpressive, or so I’ve been told. I spend too much time inside my head, and nearly none inside my body.



How I wish I could drink and smoke all day. I have no problem with being by myself, that’s my default mode, but sometimes loneliness becomes unbearable. It’s so heavy it sinks me.

My thoughts and loneliness are anchors, and I don’t have to be under water to feel like I’m drowning.

Bored to death, so I spiked my coffee with brandy. Let’s see where this experiment leads.




For over a year I’ve been back on medication, and like the lady in the picture above, I’ve been taking Celexa. I’ve found SSRI’s work better for me than tricyclic antidepressants, which make my BPD symptoms worse. However, sometimes I feel it’s harder to express what I’m thinking and/or feeling than when I’m off medication. I don’t know if this is a common experience, but it’s a side effect I hate, even more than the weight gain. Every day I struggle to get a grip on the emotions that overwhelmed me before, even if it’s only anger or sadness I can find. I don’t want to lose my humanity or my sense of self because of a chemical imbalance, and I don’t want to be locked in a mental hospital for the same reason. I hope I can figure out how to make a balance some day.

One of Many Jerks: Part I.II

There’s is more and there will be more from where that first post came from. Such disasters must be documented and shared. In case you missed it, here’s the first post:

One of the themes that came up in the conversation was previous relationships. I told him my last relationship was with a lesbian woman, and his eyes opened up as wide as dishes. I thought: “Great, now he’s going to ask me for a threesome, or he’s a homophobe.” It was the latter. He asked whether she was a butch or feminine lesbian, with a slight expression of disgust. *Insert annoyed look on my face here*

I didn’t get into the details of the relationship, except that she looked feminine and she was also a mother, which changed his facial expression to one of utter disbelief and confusion. He asked: “How can she be a mother if she’s a lesbian?” That was an impossibility in his narrow mind. *Insert annoyed look on my face here again*

I told him lots of gay and lesbian people have children. He kept asking: But how? To which I begrudgingly replied: “She was in a relationship with a man, they had sex, she became pregnant.” Now it made sense to him, but he still didn’t understand why would a lesbian be with a man, so I had to explain to him that for some people it takes time to come out or they’re not sure about their feelings.

There’s so many ways people can become parents nowadays, this was beyond dumb. Some people need intensive courses on gender, sexual orientation, reproduction and the diversity in types of families.



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