Story #18

I'm a borderline

that no one listens to

a borderline

that no one sees.

Every day I deal with problems

that seem normal

to everyone but me.

I am unworthwhile as problems go-

I really have it all together,

totally capable in any way.

No one can see me

incapacitated by my own anxiety

immobilized by fear and stress

hidden underneath a sheath

of everyday.

I took some Prozac

to feel better.

A nice band-aid

to cover the spot

of internal bleeding.

It worked.

but I'm still losing jobs

and I am still imploding relationships

like too many seagulls

on alka-seltzer.

But at least I can

better achieve the

glossy, high- quality

fakeness

that feeds everyone's expectations.

They made me president of a club.

They made me captain of the team.

They made me super-counselor at camp.

And editor of the paper.

They  believed I could do it.

I failed every one.

And someone else stepped up

cleaned up

the mess I left behind.

Somehow I fooled every one of them

into thinking that I could do it.

After two months, I quit my job at the beach.

After four, I quit the paper.

I lasted two months at the Nile,

and a whole eight weeks at camp.

A single month as a janitor of the second floor.

A whopping seven months at the department store.

And Last but not least, after two months I was fired from fine dining.

I've never had a job I've liked- or been able to keep.

And I was really trying at the last one.

I told Dylan, Scott, Chris, Ben, and Dustin

in whispers so sweet

"I'd love them forever."

"That this time was different."

I'm the most amazing woman.

I'd convince them, each

in his own language.

And when he was finally convinced,

I'd run away, and

abandon him at love's door,

with nothing more than an intense desire

to escape NOW

fueling my getaway.

Me, the borderline.

Living every day

my life meter switch

stuck on "survival."

Through periods of anger

I have several mementos.

Three punched holes

in three different walls.

A scratched, dented car.

Scratched, cut skin.

A piercing.

Many miles of gasoline

used up in silent crying, destination-

"anywhere but here."

Smoking cigarettes, smoking weed. Drinking my health to the floor. Impulse purchases- blades, clothes, bags, books, and twenty different bottles of shampoo. Screaming obscenities at people I love, building a firewall of hate for no reason. Insensible as it all is, I sit here, a borderline, this is my everyday.
Regretting my behavior. Dragging my feet through work each shift takes every ounce of energy I have

My relationships are a mystery to me- something I will never understand. Anger and depression are doors I try unsuccessfully to hold closed. I am nothing but a fake- hoping to somehow achieve normalness by convincing you that I am.