This is what my normal day may look like- Borderline’s thoughts

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, blood, self-harm

I’ll tell you about this one morning since it is a vivid memory in me as I start to write, I tend to forget everything and things become a blur after a while.

I woke up in pain. Like physical pain, which is how I usually woke up in the past days anyway (Fasciitis, migraines, etc). I looked out the window and the trees were pretty. I think they were. I usually can’t tell. I took my phone and browsed through some community Discord channels. Then whats-app. At least two of the chats in there are relics. I keep them because I feel like if they are there I have hope that the people still remember me. One of them I still write to, even though it is very likely the person at the other end has either passed away or just tossed me aside. I mean, a broken being like me, probably safer for everyone that way. But I write to them, tell them about my day. The messages don’t go through anymore. But I still do it. I love them.

I look out the window again. I can’t cry.

I feel so empty and I just sit there. I open YouTube and watch some videos, usually it helps me get out of bed eventually. The pain gets worse when I get up, which makes me scared of the stairs. I don’t want to have to go through more pain if something breaks should I fall. Every step, every agonizing step, and the wooden structure under my feet moaning cause of me I get reminded that I should do something about this appalling body. I’m terrified of the midway point, I keep thinking it will crumble under my weight one of these days. The planks are loose.

I finally get downstairs, wobble to the kitchen to get breakfast which usually isn’t anything special or particularly healthy. I usually don’t even say hi anymore to the people that live in the same house, I’m too deep in my own shadows and locked myself in so far that other people are just ghosts to me. I hate myself for it because they love me still. I think they do. I don’t know why. Or how. Maybe they don’t after all. Most of the time there is nothing left to love in me anymore. I wish I had the strength to even properly say thank you.

I get to my room. Close the door. Nibble on whatever it is I got to eat. I browse the net and go to places I shouldn’t, checking people I’ve known, seeing them change, and knowing they’ve cast me aside. And I feel lonely. I check the community again, I know they would try to cheer me up if I told them but I can’t do it. I’m already a bother to too many people. Still, I tell someone. And They give me very human and solid advice and tell me it is ok to not be ok. Finally, I can cry.

Maybe I will get something done. Usually, I drown myself in games and stuff for the day, locked in my room where I won’t bother anyone. Someone brings me food because I would forget to eat or drink. Bless them.

That’s when I didn’t have my workshop to go to.

When I have to go out I wake up, look out the window, watch a video or two, put on a mask, and go. That mask gives me the ability to play a role called ”citizen” for a while and then I come home and lock myself behind the door again. I’m dead tired usually.

And that’s just the first 6 to 8 hours of my day from when I wake up.

The thoughts that people disapprove of what I am, the fact that I don’t have a “proper’’ job, that I’m not social, that I don’t fit their image of what people should be, all of it gets to me on a daily basis. Sometimes less. Sometimes more. 

I wonder if people who come by someone like me ever think that if they open their mouths just to say how I’m not good for anyone or something of the sort… I wonder if they know that in my head I scream out that I know all this. That I don’t need someone else telling it to me too because I do a damn fine job on it by myself.

Do me a favor, will you? If you see someone suffering. Tell them they matter. That they are not worthless. That you can see how hard they are trying just to survive. That it is ok to take small steps. It is ok to stop for breathers.

Do that for me will you?