This place, this man. This Paris wallpaper. The tiny kitchen where tea is made and tipsy Jane perches on counter corners and sings her heart out. The tiny awkward couch that is exactly the same as a different couch in a different flat 11 years ago. This is home.
I came back to Liverpool on Tuesday night. You met me with hugs and so many thoughts! And I do believe in you, completely. We shared the absinthe stash. We felt like celebrating. This is real life. Its never normal, but it is real and it is ours.
I grow increasingly enraged by the general human reaction to personality disorder issues. No matter what anyone says, no matter what they have experienced, it is in no way acceptable to write off an entire section of people due to their diagnosis. This kind of stigmatization is wrong in every way. And it hurts those with bpd more than most people could understand.
I am by no means an expert here. I know and love one person with bpd. But I do know that he feels so much more than he shows. And I think that so many of his rash decisions stem from guilt and insecurity. And the general lack of hope due in part to other peoples perception of his actions. Which he could never really control anyway. And it sucks all round. But the last thing anyone living with this horrible disorder needs is to be judged and branded as fundamentally bad. I fucking hate this disorder, but I love the man. This is so important!
So yes, I know you. And I know that you are a good person. And you make this mermaid happy. and her greatest wish is to help you to feel safe and secure and as happy as possible as often as possible.