doomedfromthewombfr

[doomedfromthewombfr]

There's something poetic about the way I can carve out my own isolation- like a sculptor shaping solitude from the clay of my fears

[doomedfromthewombfr]

What are some good bpd accounts like yours you like? Like some other super relatable thoughts you appreciate. Give a so

I don’t love picking favorites because there are so many incredible accounts out there, and I’d hate to exclude anyone. The BPD community is filled with so many voices that resonate in unique and painfully beautiful ways- it’s impossible to capture them all.

That said, here are a few that hit me hard and often feel like they’ve cracked my skull open to write what’s in there: @wowlookwhosspirallingagain @thisfileiscorrupted @obscurix cannot get this one to hyperlink :( @tired-of-everything

But honestly? I think the best accounts are the ones that make you feel seen, whether they’re loud and raw, soft and reflective, or some messy mix of both. We all have our own version of this chaos, and it’s all valid

[doomedfromthewombfr]

I destroy every bridge I cross, and then wonder why I’m stranded in the darkness, crying out for a rescue I’ll never let happen

[doomedfromthewombfr]

Thank you @taakeslott and everyone who got me to 5000 reblogs!

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of the darkness and started becoming it

[doomedfromthewombfr]

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of the darkness and started becoming it

[doomedfromthewombfr]

I’m not even surviving anymore- I’m just here, a ghost haunting the life I thought I’d have

[doomedfromthewombfr]

I don’t just hate myself- I wage war against my reflection, trying to destroy the parts of me I can’t stand to see

[doomedfromthewombfr]

30 Years of Trying

After 30 years of therapy, I think I’ve finally hit the wall. I’ve tried everything- CBT, DBT, EMDR, every acronym they could throw at me. I’ve cried, screamed, journaled, meditated, done the breathing exercises, the worksheets, the self-compassion mantras. None of it stuck. None of it saved me.

It’s not that I didn’t want to be fixed- I wanted it more than anything. But at some point, you have to stop throwing yourself at the same brick wall, hoping it’ll turn into a door. Therapy didn’t fail me, and I didn’t fail therapy. It just wasn’t enough to untangle this mess I’ve become.

So I’m done. No more talking circles around my pain, no more searching for answers that don’t exist. Let the therapists set their bars low for someone else- I’ve finally accepted I was never meant to clear them anyway

[doomedfromthewombfr]

Hope feels like an intruder, sneaking in when I’m too tired to lock the doors, only to leave when I need it the most

[doomedfromthewombfr]

I second-guess everything I am, as if my existence itself needs constant permission to be real

[doomedfromthewombfr]

Your posts are fucking beautiful.

May you and I cross paths in this lifetime for me to express that.

Thank you for articulating what the silent can’t.

Your words are a gift I wasn’t expecting today, and they cut through the noise in a way that leaves me humbled. Thank you for seeing me, for understanding that the things I post aren’t just words- they’re pieces of the scream I’ve carried in silence for too long.

If our paths ever cross, I hope it’s in the quiet of a moment where the world stops for just a breath, and we can sit in the shared understanding that even the broken carry beauty. Your kindness isn’t lost on me; it’s a reminder that even in the chaos, there are connections that make this brutal existence feel less lonely.

Keep existing loudly, even in your quiet moments. I see you, too.

[doomedfromthewombfr]

And this is why I avoid all humans irl.

Damn do I realize how fucked up I really am so much more when I’m around normal people