elune

One of the features of BPD is that identity sometimes has to be rebuilt from scratch, as if the previous version of myself stopped being recognizable even to me, and a new one needs to be found. This doesn’t happen on a schedule, and it certainly doesn’t happen by choice. At some point you just realize you’re back at a point of reassembly. Self-portraits, in moments like these, become markers on a mental map: this is who I was at this exact point, this is what I felt, this is what the light looked like that day.

Because in time this version of me will fade from perception, and in her place will be someone whose face I don’t yet know, and whom I will probably stop loving before I even understand why.