SPOILER FOR FLEABAG

I hate it when people do nice things for me on my birthday because I know that I don't deserve any of it and I'm a horrible person and I'm an imposter and I deserve only bad things but then that hurts too, but this hurts also

I fucked up, I really really really fucked up. The first thing you need to know is that I overshare, a lot, I literally cannot function without oversharing. I need to give explanations and I need to clarify things which other people may have not over thought so that my brain shuts up and gives me peace of mind.

I've this teacher who is really awesome cool amazing etcetc and I send her interesting stuff - after asking her first. But Yada Yada, I tell my uncle how awesome she is and everything and he's like '

Btw, remember something.. she must be going out of her way to respond to your msgs n be nice to you.. but do remember she has a life too, tto.. don't over burden her so much so that she feels 'aaagh.. She has msged again n I need to respond since she'll expect one..'

And since I'm a person who overthink the shit out of stuff I had already had this insecurity and he just solidified it. So I went and talked to ma'am about it, made everything weird and since then I couldn't get it out of my head that I'd done something wrong and that I needed to apologise for it but not really clear on what it exactly is.

And then a few days ago she was late to class and I personally thought it was an as per usual thing and no one texted her to come either, and plus I have in a terrible mood that day so I was having a heavy conversation with my friend outside the class. So when she suddenly came I was shakey and I couldn't respond properly when she - kinda upset aayittu - asked us why we didn't let her know. So my friend and I were kinda stumped pole, and I guess she realised something or it was just because she was late that she walked in the class. It must've seemed as if I had ignored her after this very deep very weird WhatsApp convo, and also I didn't get to thank her after class because I was thanking my friend for being there for me. So yesterday, which was a few days, 2 or so, after this had happened I text her out of the blue apologising to her for this and now I want to fucking punch myself in the face because I honestly, genuinely hate myself so much because I literally fuck everything up. Like everything. Why can't I stop overthinking so much and overeharing so much, why am I such a fuck up. She must be so weirded out, she must think I'm a fake person, she must think that it was a mistake to allow me to text her in the first place, she must think that she just wished I left her alone and I don't fucking know if it's my bpd or if it's me as a fuck up of a person but goshhhhhh, why the fuck am I like thisss

And I cannot control it. I legit cannot, I swear, fuck, if I could, I would've. I hate myself so much

songs and their stories

Did you feel the way I did, when Leith Ross said, ‘oh, what a wonderful feeling, to own and operate your life; oh, what a terrible burden, all my decisions are mine’? Like an eighteen year old child, a twenty one year old toddler; forever young; like a duckling imprinting on the first person it sees; like a sea turtle – just knowing your home is the sea, knowing you’ll be hunted the moment you break free; like wandering into a brand new city, like learning how to swim for the first time – a sudden shove, a lightning fast pull, static; like the taste of freedom, once sweet, turning into ash the more you realize accountability is yours, and yours only; like the world is too big, and at your feet; like a carousal – the feeling of wind rushing making you want to spin spin spin spin- ignoring the nausea rising; like wanting to dance in the rain, but unwilling to leave the warmth of the hearth keeping you cozy.  

Did it make you think the way it made me, when James Bay said, ‘tell me how to be in this world; tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt; tell me how could I believe in something’, and John Legend said, ‘I try to do the things, I say that I believe’? Like swimming upstream; like rolling the stone till you reach the peak, only to meet another hill; like wanting to change the world one droplet at a time, knowing life is too short for you see it become an ocean; like having faith in the flutter of tiny wings, if the butterfly effect is simply a myth, your existence would lose all meaning; like you’re watching the world from the sofa, popcorn shamefully at your feet when you need a break from the bloody, gory documentary; like knowing too much, wishing you were little; like a throat sore from screaming, hoping you could make someone else see; like falling falling falling, not knowing if there is an upwards from the rock bottom beneath your feet; like breathing in icy cold air, existence akin to slow ruin; like the sweat from holding onto someone’s hand for far too long - clammy, icky, safety.

 -kpm ©

me, thinking: *don't say it, don't say it, istg if you say it-*

my family: "it's for your own good, we're only thinking about what's best for you"

me: *control, deep breaths, control, deep breaths, control, deep brea-*

family: "if we didn't care about you, we wouldn't say all this to you"

me: *BOOM* *EXPLOSION*

PLEASE STOP GIVING A SHIT ABOUT ME IF THAT'S THE REASON FOR Y'ALL TO SAY INSENSITIVE, CONTROLLING BULLSHIT

I feel so lonely :)

little thing i trained myself to practice-

whenever i share something that puts me in a vulnerable position, or something that's special to me; or i stand up for somebody else; or if I send something eg. a message or rant expresses myself and my opinions; and i don't get the desired response; or read a book that isn't "intellectual" enough and overthink if I've wasted that time like my family always claims; or anything that might arouse feelings of regret based on external parties, i ask myself *who did I do that for*/*who am I doing this for*. because what it comes down to it is that I'm doing all that for me. I'm being vulnerable with another person because I feel connected to them and i want to share this part with them; i stand up for people because that's my principle, one of my core values, and I'm being true to myself. I tell my loved what my boundaries are because it's my responsibility to set them for myself. It always comes down to me. And that gives me a sense of power, of autonomy, of self-respect. And my self-destructive, regretful thoughts don't send me down into a spiral and i can manage my bpd symptoms better.

mesh

I want the kind of love shared by Christina Yang and Meredith Grey; the kind of love shared by friends who’re soulmates; the kind of love where I will never feel like an outsider in my own relationship, no matter what kind it may be; the kind of love where no matter what stupid shit I spout, I will be met with fond exasperation and never scorn or judgement; I want the kind of love where anything problematic I say or do will be received with grace, a space for remorse, and reparation; the kind of love where my quiet, empty days will be accepted, and my boisterous ones appreciated; the kind of love with whom I can get drunk as fuck with without hesitation; the kind of love I feel safe sleeping on their shoulder with; the kind of love for whom I wouldn’t regret giving my all and more to; the kind of love who understands which love language I need to be communicated with on what day; the kind of love where there are no blips in communication; the kind of love where there is no fear of being too much or not enough; the kind of love where I feel I am the exact right amount of me; the kind of love who won’t attach sexual overtones to physical intimacy; the kind of love where my mind immediately hollers their name when I muse about whom to share my writings with because it knows they’d want to read it; the kind of love where we both feel safe and secure showing our most rotten parts to; the kind of love where we both feel safe and secure showing our best parts to; the kind of love that is not romantic and not platonic and not sexual; the kind of love where I can regress when I feel soft; the kind of love where I can rage when I feel small; the kind of love where you choose each other, where you stay decisively, love purposefully; the kind of love you are at home in.

 [p.s- wanting ≠ lacking]

 -kpm ©

I reaaaaaaaallllllyyyyy wanna re-watch OITNB but I don't think I'm emotionally ready to see Poussey again~

I'm walking around the house braless and my grandma was whining about it and I asked her - in a very jokey/teesy tone - why she had a problem with it when I didn't, and that it was my body anyway, she was like I don't like you staying here, what about that then - what will you say to that. And I'm so fucking angry and upset and so, so done. I hate adults. I hate adults. I hate adults. They're insensitive, cruel and self centered.

I wanna bitch slap my roommate