It feels good.

Every time I take a puff, I kill a bunch of brain cells. "Ha, plasticity will take care of this", I think to myself and laugh. Then, my heart asks "do you really wanna be doing this?". That 's the muscle talking. The "other" heart, the irrational is loving it so much!

The "mind" is flying somewhere. "Is there even a mind" questions philosophy, and I am asking myself while smiling out of the window. There is no actual window, it is only me and the world. 

BPD is a bitch. It knows what is doing. And it has only one aim: to extinguish me. 

I said "not today" many nights. Nights are the difficult period when my demons are awake. But I manage with pills to silence them. Once more, once every time. 

Occasionally they sleep for days, weeks or even months. But it takes something so little, a thought that can get stuck in my head (thanks to OCPD) so that the world seems a much worse place. 

Not today, not ever.

Said it again, again and again. Many times. Many nights. I managed to shoo my thoughts away, to lock them out, to block them, every time I go to the gym, I study, I surround myself with... stuff. But, I need to learn how to be with me. How to be here for me.

Bit it feels so good to kill myself little by little. I feel some odd freedom, some type of confirmation that I am still alive. Once more, here, once again. I am the boss of myself.

But is it me, or my disorders talking?

I know I m not alone. Feels lonely less often now. I am so busy anyways. 

However... It still feels good.