BPD

Borderline Personality Disorder: A mental disorder characterized by unstable moods, behavior, and relationships. Symptoms include feelings of worthlessness, insecurity, impulsivity, compulsive behavior, hostility, self-destructive behavior, self-harm, social isolation, lack of restraint, anger, anxiety, general discontent, guilt, loneliness, depression, distorted self-image, grandiosity, thoughts of suicide.
Sounds like every person on the planet right? Young and dumb and unable to pull themselves out. In the beginning it looks fine. A baby who is either really happy, or screaming uncontrollably. A toddler whose father leaves, so they need to be the center of attention. A middle schooler spitting out 4.0's convinced that's the only way to be successful, bitching to everyone about the length of their shorts. A high schooler over achieving, and getting top leadership spots while stalking crushes immersing themselves in the "what ifs". Jumping on a bus to Oregon to lose themselves to a musical athletic experience trying to jumpstart a career they don't end up pursuing. Normal. Fine.
Except with BPD, you don't have the emotional resilience to bounce back from everyday life. Bouncing from religion to religion, idea to idea, different kinds of friends. Rubber band snapping from identity to identity, day after day year after year. Emotions sting like salt on a wound, except your whole body is wounded and the salt is coming from a snow blower. It makes you desperate. It's exhausting to be around. Exhausting to live with. It probably looks like someone begging for attention, maybe boredom if I'm lucky. But it's so consuming that I shut down to the dullness of the world around me. I try to sharpen it with caffeine, food, sex, drugs, lovers, enemies, drama, anything besides the thing I wish to do most. When people talk about suicide, the words "I never saw it coming" float out of too many mouths like bad breath. Some days I am as light as a bird with ambitions to fly the world. But more often my bones are made of lead and my heart sinks to my shaking knees. Reality gets fuzzy around the edges, hotboxing your car in a church parking lot. I feel the need for more. More sleep. More knowledge. More endurance. A more perfect body. So I settle for more drugs. But I deal with that alone. Because you can't say "hey mom I feel like I'm dying inside, but hey how was work today." So I sit on the floor and the lock the door because life seems more temporary in a gas station restroom. The emptiness inside swallows my voice, my dignity, and my life to the art of distraction. Endless conversations stringing people along to keep talking by spilling my stories to them. Articulating rants that never really end, just pick up again at the next person. Cutting off trains of thought that inevitably find their way back. Facebook stalking dead relatives in an impossible endeavor of filling the gaping hole in my chest.
The hallmark of BPD is the hypocrisy. I hold the worth of people around me higher than they feel towards themselves, and how I feel towards myself. I genuinely, undeniably, inevitably end up two faced. The clay in everyone's hands to be molded to what they need. I'm their Mario boost. Their compliment jar. The confidence that can only come from me vampirically giving everything I am to every person I meet. They give me enough to go on; enough to convince themselves they are a good person. But then I'm awful to myself. Cruel. The deepest level of abuse because you took in everything you've ever been given, and emulated the abuse dished to you instead of the loving support from the friends that stuck around. Eventually I cracked, and said a four letter word I never thought I'd have a good reason to utter. Help.