syour friends are telling me that youre not quite the same. that something has changed. they’re at a loss. they don’t know what to do. they even asked me if i know what was going on, we haven’t spoken in over a year. that’s how desperate they are getting. they want to help you. maybe nothing is wrong, maybe they are just overreacting. that is a definite possiblity. but i want you to know that im here for you. i too have been through a lot. i can’t say that i know exactly what you are feeling, because i don’t. i just know the pain and confusion. i know the fight. im going to let you in on a little secret, about a month ago i was diagnosed with bdp. thats borderline personality disorder. it sounds crazy. it sounds like im crazy. it sounds like i belong in a mental institution. but i know i dont. once i found out i had this disorder, i tried to hide it, i didnt want anyone to know that i was certifiably crazy. just because of the stereotypes that go along with a personality disorder. i eventually broke down and told my sister. i was crying and apologizing for being crazy, and you know what she said? she said, “so?” and looked at me the same way she always has. like im her little sister and she loves me. i was speechless. after all of the shit her and i have been through together, all the ups and downs, all the “i hate yous” and the saying that we disown one another (though let’s be honest, i was the one saying that i disowned her), she still loved me. she then went on to tell me that it doesnt change a thing, that it happens, people get diagnosed with disorders all the time, and they live through them. they can go on to live a happy and healthy life with the right treatment. so, i know ive gotten carried away with my story, so im going to get right down to the point. i want you to know that you are not alone, people care about you, i care about you. i never wanted to stop being friends, and to this day, i have no idea where i went wrong, i at points drive myself crazy thinking about it and trying to figure it out. you were my best friend, we sat on the edge of the street at 2am and cried and laughed at how shitty our lives were, we went to tim hortons right at 5am right when they started serving breakfast. these are the memories i remember. being too scared to go into the graveyard at night. the hot guy at the alcohol store where i didnt get id’d. taking the bus for one stop because it was raining and we didnt want to get wet, or walk up the hill. i dont know how you feel, but i remember you saying that you were so happy that you could talk to me about personal things, things you couldn’t talk to anyone else about. i want you to know im still here. im here with no judgments, no accusatuons, no strings attached. if you just need to talk to someone, just for a night, im here. i just want you to be happy. thats all i ever wanted. and im sorry if i ever made you doubt that, that was never my intention.
THE WORD IN ITSELF SOUNDS BAD. My therapist might commit me. Just a heads up. I had to call my mom and warn her that she may get a call informing her I was committed. She tried to tell me it wasn’t a bad thing. But it’s definitely not a good thing. I am also going to apply for an extenuating withdrawal from school. I feel like I have given up. I feel like asking for this withdrawal is like me telling the world that yes, I am, in fact, broken. I feel like there is a war inside of me. Part of me is fighting to live, part of me is longing to die. When I confessed to my therapist that I did have a plan, it became too real. Not the death part, but the being committed part. I’m at a loss as to what to do now. Should I tell him the truth and if he believes I should be committed, then should I allow that to happen? Or should I lie and pretend that I’m fine and it was just a momentary lapse in judgment and continue to fight alone. I am very well aware that the lying option may bring me to my own demise, but I am more than horribly scared of being committed. I don’t think I can handle that. It’ll be like me admitting that I’m not strong enough, I’m not good enough, I’m not doing enough, I’m just not enough. If I’m committed, I’ll have to accept the fact that I’ll never be perfect, and that kills me. I just wish I knew what to do.
“BAD IDEA”
“Don’t fucking pick up”
“Ignore at all costs”
“Seriously? I dated this guy?”
“Really?”
Let’s just say, I’ve had some bad dates/experiences in the past few months….
What I told myself:
Age 10: Just wait until I’m 13, everything will be alright. I’ll be in highschool, I’ll have real friends, I’ll be having fun, I’ll be taking class I want to take, I’ll finally be happy.
Age 13: Just wait until I’m 16, everything will be alright. I’ll have my license, I’ll be able to drive, I’ll have a boyfriend, I’ll finally be happy.
Age 16: Just wait until I’m 19, everything will be alright. I’ll be legal, I’ll have graduated, I’ll be in university, I can make my own choices, I’ll be on my own, I’ll finally be happy.
Age 19: Just wait until I’m 21, everything will be alright. I’ll be able to accept myself, I’ll be almost done my degree, I’ll have a healthy relationship, I’ll finally be happy.
Now: Just wait until the drugs start to work, everything will be alright. I won’t have these haunting thoughts anymore, I’ll be able to get out of bed in the morning, I’ll be able to accept the things I can’t change, I won’t be obsessed with perfection, I’ll finally be happy.
I’m tired of this waiting game. I’ve been playing it for 10 years now, this game has got to end. I want this game to end. I need this game to end. This game is sucking the life right out of me, it hurts so much. I want it to stop.
It’s not when I’m in my bed and can hear my own thoughts. It’s not when I’m in a crowd and I can hear their judgements. It’s not when I’m talking to those close to me and I can hear their lies. But when I can see my own reflection. Not only in a mirror, but in the past. It’s when I can see how hard I’ve tried, and how far I’ve gone. It’s when I can clearly see my failures and successes. It’s when I’m rational and logical. It’s when I’m truthful and fair. It’s when I care and am sympathetic. It’s when I move on from this darkness. That’s when I fall apart. That’s when I crash. That’s when I don’t trust myself to hold a knife. That’s when I desperately call you, wanting to go back. I want to go back to those wonderful lies you told me, to those fair judgements they make, to those irrational thoughts that make no sense. I’d rather feel worthless than feel happy. I have further to fall if I feel happy, and that’s one fall that I know I won’t survive.
This is what she wrote:
The Stroop Effect, named after John Ridley Stroop, is when the name of a color (e.g., “blue,” “green,” or “red”) is printed in a color that is different than colour that is written (for example; the word “red” printed in blue ink instead of red ink), naming the color that word in printed in takes longer and is more prone to errors than when simply reading the word or when the color of the ink matches the name of the color. This effect was first published in English in 1935. It had been published earlier in 1929, however this publication was limited to Germany. The original publication has become one of the most referenced publications in the history of experimental psychology, with references in over seven hundred replications.
This is what Wikipedia wrote:
In psychology, the Stroop effect is a demonstration of the reaction time of a task. When the name of a color (e.g., “blue,” “green,” or “red”) is printed in a color not denoted by the name (e.g., the word “red” printed in blue ink instead of red ink), naming the color of the word takes longer and is more prone to errors than when the color of the ink matches the name of the color. The effect is named after John Ridley Stroopwho first published the effect in English in 1935.[1] The effect had previously been published in 1929, but only in Germany.[2][3][4] The original paper has been one of the most cited papers in the history of experimental psychology, leading to more than 700 replications.[4]The effect has been used to create a psychological test (Stroop Test) that is widely used in clinical practice and investigation.
Hyperlinks still intact. I now have 5 hours to re-write all that she did. Fuck My Life.
Fucking love Ryan James Yezak. Everything he does is gold.
The best.
um so marissa i think we need a picture together to make our relationship legit
It needs to be romantic and sexy and sensual. There should be roses and candles.
