lately, i've been trying to humanize my illness.
my borderline personality disorder,
i think we should call her
alice.
alice is a
child,
one tethered to me infinitely,
as if we are always holding hands.
she is a
small, unknowing
child.
she is full of
naivety.
she is ⠀⠀⠀⠀ she is ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
and she, of course,
thinks like a child.
she makes
hasty assumptions.
insensitive questions.
but she does not know any better.
she is like a younger sibling i was asked to look after.
i find her
annoying,
yet, she finds me
cool.
i'm all she has,
i'm all she knows.
she's ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to me,
connected
and i am her
whole world
she's only a fraction of mine.
she asks
for me,
i exist outside of her,
but,
for her,
she does not exist outside of me.
she is terribly lonely.
she only knows what i tell her,
only knows my perspective.
she is quick to defend me.
she throws
tantrums,
when i am hurt.
whines,
cries,
alice ⠀⠀⠀⠀me,
loves
and all she wants is for me to be
happy,
she gets upset on my behalf,
even if her way of showing it is clumsy.
alice does not know she has
long claws,
venom in her breath.
but i also know what she truly is.
i can see it that way, too.
sharp teeth,
sweet girl.
monster
i don't have the heart to tell her about the monster she is.
monster
monster
monster
alice, you're a very
i know, you're
scared.
even if you
rip my world into shreds,
i will always hold your hand.
loud,
curious,
for her, she looks⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and
sweet
dainty.