Borderline Personality Disorder

Does a façade have a name? I believe it does. Everything must have a way to be identified in this world. Even a make-believe realm where actors gather at the start of each day, it too, must be assigned a label in which to be called. How else are you to request its presence or deny its existence? Together the masters of their art set up a stage and begin rehearsing. Masks are applied as easily as paint. Costumes are donned so it can all begin. It’s a grand play diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder.

Step up to center stage to practice your lines for the empty theater, they must be perfect. You face must be captivating and your actions not too frantic. But when has it ever been anything but frenzied? You’re too close to the microphone and someone might not like that. Who is someone? They are who you treasure most at any given time. Am I speaking or are you? We don’t know.

What we do know is that at some point what is left of our audience may abandon us mid-story. This idea is frightening so we work even harder to ensure their seat is set, forever. You and I, we are pummeled by the fear of abandonment. We must tell the entire story; they have to listen, to see where it will lead and end. We are not so different, you and I.

Each and every day can be a different set, an entirely new play. The labor of ensuring even the tiniest painted rocks are to perfection is as intense as your need to please those who won’t even see them. You are beside yourself with the shading of the trees and plucking apart the gold hem of the mostly drawn curtains. What if they notice the centerpiece isn’t exactly as it should be? They might exit and never buy another ticket.

Keep your eyes up, smile only when appropriate, be anyone but yourself for them. Scream if you must. Manipulate their gaze and emotions to your favor. Lock every possible door. It is what has to be done to have them stay. You are seen as almost rabid from out there. Of course they hate that too. Who can you be if not you? Whoever will hold them captive right here.

Delirium will inevitably grasp your ankles from the trap door and you will feel your strength faltering. The time spent preparing the ideal performance will have left you tired, worn down to the bones. With a weak sway you will be pulled down in to the lonely darkness that surrounds you with no remorse. This is the deep emptiness you experience at the mere idea of not having at least one seat filled.

False appearances become one with the personality as time carries on. A day that you start as yourself can turn to ending as someone else entirely. You walk carefully between a beaten path and unruly forest, teetering between normality and abnormality. It isn’t called borderline to be a catchy title. But all roads lead to the downfall of the performer; it is how fate has spun the story to end.

The viewers will always tell you to just remove the mask and smile as yourself… we know better. We know it isn’t that easy. You and I, we are two of an out of control kind. We are imposters using whatever tools we found backstage to build a set and costumes for our grandest performances. We are bordering between sanity and insanity just to captivate the audience in to adoring us enough to buy ticket after ticket. A personality disorder? Why yes, that is the name our ongoing façade has received. You may deny it but we see it. We act it out. You and I, we are labeled and that is enough just to exist in this world. Now, time for a curtain call!

Before the Act Began