Billie Cares Too Much - Blog Posts

My common law wife and I made soft plans to elope, Did some dishes, she gave me a massage for my chronic pain, which hurt so good it turned me on, which turned her on, so the massage turned into us fucking like it's not a Tuesday in the middle of the day and then she brought me an ice cold glass of water with a straw!!!

Is this... domestic bliss?

I cry for the butcher

Gold silver and copper

cake my tongue

No harm can ever come from

my mother's praying hands

My filthy mouth -

I harmed myself

Orange wedge lip

Clenched ivory threat

Pulled the trigger with my tongue

Blood orange

Her saintly hands

I’m sorry - a million times over

I say to her

And when i finally cry

It is not for the lamb.

Fun fact: without enrichment animals can suffer from depression and anxiety.

It's me. I'm animals. Work is not enriching enough

I want to metaphorically jump off a building and see who catches me. But at least I'm self aware enough to not do that.

I'm coming up on my 25th birthday and I've never seen a gynecologist because my family doctor also happens to be a close family friend and even though he knows I've been sexually active for a while I just can't seem to bring myself to be specific.

What am I supposed to say?

"Oh yeah, I know you know I'm in a lesbian relationship, but my Gf has a nine inch dick with which she plows me on the regular, so maybe I should get my cervix looked at, if for no other reason than to make sure everything is still where it should be"

Sex is wholesome.

Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead!

You can't! I'm dying on this hill!

Ya llego ✨✨✨

Excerpt from a text convo between two Friends who both have BPD:

*edited for typos and clarity*

[...] I will do what Is in my nature to do.

I will beg the frog to take me to the other side of the river.

The frog will say no because it knows it cannot trust me.

And I will say: "you can trust me because if I sting you I too will drown".

And with its last ghasping drowning breath the frog will ask me: "why?" and I will say:

"Because it's in my nature".

As a person with BPD, I deeply identify with the scorpion in that story. I don't start out wanting to hurt the people that are helping me. I don't start out thinking about how much pain I can cause.

I ask for help from people who should know better than to trust me and I make it very difficult for them to do what I asked.

"Let yourself be loved", said my mother as she squeezed and pinched and bruied us with her hugs and kisses.

Don't be a "Limosnero con garrote" (begger with a club), my parents would tell us. They often found it difficult to meet our needs. And somehow, that was our fault.

Can a scorpion live without its stinger? Can a beggar carry a club? Can I stop hurting?

I hate the spring

Because it smells like a schoolyard, like a rubber band about to snap, like unreachable expectations. I reeks of change and hope that sours like milk in the sun. It smells like an wild animal about to pounce on its vulnerable pray.

It makes me nauseous, it wets my socks, it burns my eyes and It looms over me like the inevitable end of all that is good.

Um so...

I tried avoiding conflict with my mom... but that turned into avoiding my mom...

On tuesday after a very intense phone call with her and an equally intense therapy session, I decided to go no contact.

I then hung out with friends, got embarrassingly drunk, woke up with a hangover that was less debilitating than I had hoped and blocked her on all my socials.

I didn't think ti was going to hurt *me* this much. I should be happy. But I feel guilty. I feel like I gave up too soon, like if I had hung on a little longer, then everything would have been ok.

But I know that's not true. I know that she uses the fact that I still have hope to rope me back in every time. And every time I fall for it.

I know I don't miss her. I know I miss the "in between" times. I miss the way she would behave when she was making up for having hurt me; when she was trying to "earn" the forgiveness I gave her for free. I miss how she would make me feel so safe and so loved, like I was the only one with who she could really be herself, like there was no one in the world who saw me like she did.

I know that all those wo derfull feelings come at the cost of hollowing out everything that makes me "me" to make room for what she wants me to be.

I know all that.

And It still feels like I fucked up. Like I should apologize and beg for her forgiveness and pray to a god I no longer believe in that she will welcome me back into a "home" that has only ever felt as calm and as safe as the eye of a hurricane.

I struggle with:

ADHD & neurospicy-nes

Rejection sensitive dysphoria

Possible Autism diagnosis is on the bacckburner for an indefinite period of time.

Depression

Borderline personality disorder

And being told "you can't"

My response to you can't is: "watch me"

And that usually leads to me crashing and burning in spectacular fashion.

Hi i um.. i'm trying to compartmentalize my trauma dumps away from my fandom shit so... yeah... I'm here to vent.