destiny.

Well. I received from Destiny the story that she wanted me to post on here. I am not gonna lie, this might’ve been one of the hardest things that I have ever had to read. I feel broken. It takes me back to that moment. To that hotel bathroom floor. To everything that existed before that moment. And everything that has come after. I can talk about that night with a calmness. A detachment. It is almost like the story is rehearsed. Told to several people over the course of the last nine months, my voice becomes monotonous when I discuss it. But the true impact of that night, the true depths of the abyss that I spiraled down, well those thoughts have been pushed to the farthest reaches of my mind. It is still too much. Too raw. Too real. Too hard to face. But in order to truly heal and move forward, I have to face this. I have to. As hard as it is, it is necessary. At least that is what I believe. And not only my story needs to be told, but Destiny’s does as well. Because it completes the picture of me. To take this journey with me, see through my eyes, see into my heart; there is no better way than through the words of someone who lived in that dark moment with me. These are her words. Her feelings. Unedited. Honest and truthful. It is easy to forget that we are not the only ones who suffer from the BPD diagnosis. Our loved ones suffer in silence with us. But their story should be told along with ours. Because they deserve to be heard too. So. Here it is. This is her voice. My other side to my story. Please note, this is unfiltered and may be triggering. But straight from Destiny:

“When I look back on that weekend in San Francisco…it still feels like I am still in that moment. Talking about that night hurts my heart, and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I don’t talk about it, and haven’t in about nine months. Let me start from the beginning so maybe it all makes more sense. Laura and I met last year in February and instantly declared best friendship. We connected immediately and pretty much were inseparable from then on. We went through so much together in such little time. We bonded, and for once it was nice to have someone to talk to. It’s so hard putting this into writing, because there is so much I want to say, but hard trying to put it all into the correct order, so please bare with me. When her ex left, things got hard for her, and I felt like I was the only one there to catch her. I was trying so hard to keep her above water so she could breathe and not drown, but in terms she just kept getting harder to make smile. She started becoming a “zombie”. She would say she was fine, but I could see the pain in her eyes. We would still laugh, and have great best friend times. I would listen to her when she would open up, and I assured her everyday I wasn’t going anywhere. She needed that reassuring talk quite often. She didn’t believe I was in it for the long haul, but I begged to differ. I could see a long friendship. April came around and she was really starting to sink, so we decided we should take a trip. I had never been to San Francisco, and she said it would be perfect! I couldn’t agree more, so we packed our bags, booked a hotel, and started driving. It was such a fun little roadtrip. We talked about everything, jammed out to all of our favorite songs, and just anticipated for the best vacation yet! We were going to finally be away from everything that was upsetting her. That afternoon we arrived in the amazing city and went up to the hotel to get ready for an awesome night. We got ready and headed to Joe’s Crab Shack for our first round of drinks and dinner. It was so nice to get to hang out and not have a worry…or so I thought anyway. Little did I know that inside Laura was more of a mess than before. ( her ex and so called other best friends weren’t being so nice to her) We eventually got to the district that us gays call home, The Castro. I was so excited to go to all the amazing bars and meet new people. All Laura would talk about was how amazing it was! We went to this amazing wine bar that was so sophisticated and hipster. It was fun people watching. We went from bar to bar to bar until we knew we were drunk and ready for bed! We got a cab back to our hotel, that’s when things got crazy. Laura started getting upset about her ex and the so called friends. I was calling my gf to say hi, and before I knew it Laura got more upset and pushed me. I don’t know why or what triggered her to, but I was a taken back by it. She was usually so sweet, and I had never seen her angry. I locked myself in the bathroom to cool off, and eventually let her in. While I was in there her ex called along with those friends, yelling and screaming at her. Calling her all sorts of names. It was so wrong and I apologized and she apologized, and we decided to go to bed.( I know this may seem jumbled, but remember we had been drinking) I felt like I had been sleeping for hours when I woke up to what I thought was Laura calling my name. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I tried opening the door but something was blocking me from getting in. I pushed it as hard as I could to open it. The door slid open just enough to see my hair cutting shears laying in the biggest pool of blood I have ever seen. There were blood clots everywhere and laying on the ground was an unconscious Laura. Both arms cut from her wrist to almost her inside of her elbow. I fell to the ground in shock and grabbed my phone dialing 911. Everything seemed surreal, and I felt like I was floating. The cops and EMTs showed up, and told me to leave the room. They told me it didn’t look good. I didn’t know if my best friend was still alive, I felt alone and scared. I thought I lost someone who meant the world to me. I was also angry, because she did it when we were in a city I was unfamiliar with, and no one to turn to. She was supposed to be there…and I didn’t know if she was anymore. I thank god that night that she made it, and I promised her that through all of that I would always be there. I meant it, and knew she needed me more than anything now. That night didn’t leave my mind ever, I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t eat…I was emotionally empty. I wasn’t going to let her see that though, she needed smiles. Everyday seemed to get harder and harder, my anxiety levels increased, and I felt like I was losing my best friend. Through all of this she got closer to her now fiancé, and out of no where told me that I was selfish. That she was the one that almost died, and I am the one throwing a pity party. I felt like these things were being built up in her head by someone else. It was so hurtful, and I felt even lower than before. I was the only one there for her, when everyone else left. I didn’t understand, but she basically told me to leave her alone. So for nine months…we haven’t talked, and it was hard. I knew I couldn’t reason, so I let her find herself, and be around who she wanted to. That night will always be a part of me, and I miss my best friend everyday…because even though she made it that night, I feel like I have been mourning my best friend’s death for nine months. Yes, I saved her that night…but in saving her…I in turn lost her…and that was the worst feeling.”

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