does someone have WD-40 so I can open this door again?

unearthed work in progress from a year ago, publishing anyways. I have no idea what this is about besides, I guess, an interruption by what it's like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder.

I can’t say I expected this silence
I can’t say I predicted this, though I’m
always living in other people’s heads
Thinking their thoughts, speaking their words, dreaming
their dreams, feeling their pain. 

My heart never did well with abrupt change, 
Maybe that’s why it’s giving me such trouble lately

Even when my life has been perpetual head-on collisions
I’ve never truly grown used to the impact
compelling my head back
striking synapses like matches,

I’ve been medicating my heart with vodka again -
because the burn in my belly is one that brings comfort
but prey-drive takes over when it catches scent of sparks…

So I smolder, slowly. 

I can’t say I expected to be watching 
from the outside
My breath stuttering on a picture
on a phrase
on a face
An unexpected bite from nostalgia,
you know, I never have the antivenom within reach

I watch while things keep carrying on,
like the softest neglect
wasn’t happening right in the midst
of an affluent neighborhood bustling about
while one small home falls by the wayside
The hush-hushside, avert your eyes,
better things than that betide. 

Perhaps I’m not as exciting as once upon a time, 
the Storms, they have not been so kind
The exterior could use a pick me up, 
the interior needs refurbishing, but I�" 

it’s too much f*****g work, there’s no time, give me space! The buzzing in my head’s too loud to concentrate on such a task!

You pick up your things, move out, move on

You need something louder than the drone in your skull

Not a space where you must sit with the hive.

Give me closeness and loudness and constantness and anything to distract! Why can’t you see I’m going through so much! GIVE ME SPACE. Why can’t you see I’m trying to protect myself! It’s self preservation!

Hurt them before they hurt you

hurt them so their hurt doesn’t hurt you anymore

So your guilt doesn’t hurt you anymore

So you’re hurt and they have to deal with guilt more.

Leave your festering behind on my crumbling hearth and move on,

Let nature take me back,

let it all fade from view,

to be forgotten quietly while you discover something new.

You were always a sucker for that

cutting-edge gleam anyhow.