I have BPD and I recently cut pornography/PMO out of my life. I just want to die. That is a thought. But It's a frequent one. I am terrified of going back to the job I dipped tf out of a month ago when I had found out I had been late. My boss is terrifying and regularly abusive towards employees in his tone, his words, and his obsessive micromanagement of... yes... cashiers. I know that work is kind of "supposed to steal your soul," that money is made through effort and sacrifice, but this just feels like too much for me. I am so absolutely drained after a single day of work that I spend my free time preparing emotionally for the next shift... that means the 8 hours of consciousness I have between shifts goes towards coping. I will choose to recognize that these past experiences had the influence of heavy pornography behind them... and that going back to work, now, also means explaining to this terrifying and unpredictable (while sometimes lovable and considerate) boss that I have taken a random, month long leave of absence because I was too scared to report to work after being late. Granted, I just separated myself from my emotionally abusive and manipulative parents, also impulsively trashing their behavior on facebook, while not-so-impulsively changing my entire legal name. This is scary for anybody, let alone me. I still fear constantly that my parents are plotting against me or coming to get me. That I should be in jail for the crimes I have committed (leaving them, watching porn, calling out their behavior, skipping work, lying to the boss that I had COVID-19). A hard standard I have for myself is honesty- I value that a LOT and truth-telling feels SO GOOD however it's obviously not appropriate on any absolute basis. Last night I got high again, and disassociated so badly that I called out for my friend to kill me. To end my life. He was not in the room, no one heard me. I graduated DBT in may of this year and slowly but surely, the information protecting me from insanity has slipped out of my grasp. I'm making a desperate attempt to get back on the horse, but honestly, I don't want to. I just want to die. I want this misery to be over so people can get back to living their lives away from Mr. Out-of-Control. This is the best life I can have right now, and I don't want it. I don't know how to get back into therapy without a cell phone, and I dipped so hard in therapy before that I am completely ashamed about getting back in. Of course, if you "know" borderline, you might understand that emotions are like concrete walls, rising stories high. Sometimes, at least. In the meantime I am desperately trying to cobble together a music career, and I know that if I want a fair shot at success I should relocate to LA or NY. I have no money, no college, no parents, and one of the worst disorders known to man. I'm not willing right now to let go of my dream, so I'm going to desperately try and make it work. And I want to die. I don't want to get better, I just want to fucking die! This is bullshit. I fight for life harder than a newborn in a billyrueben tube. Of course, life matters a whole fucking lot to me in that regard, but is it worth it? I will never logically arrive at any evidence-based answer for the question of my life being worth it, and that will be the curse that propels me forward, into unspeakable misery, towards some fantastic goal. No drugs and alcohol today, I want to feel everything. FUCK. I need to feel everything, or I'm just going to get suicidal again, six months down the road. Fucking kill me! 

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