Crash Out, Breathing: A Poem About Borderline Personality Disorder

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I giggle right 

before I go crazy.

I might chuckle to myself

before I lose my mind. 

      Never making a sound 

but reverberating 

I

  N

      S

         I

           D

              E

                          My brain 

                          Just 

                          The 

                          Same 

This is how I know the crash out is coming. 

                    Echoing through my bones 

                    Like a chill 

I use this moment

B

  R

     E

        A

           T

              H

                 E

                            In, calm again 

                            and no one knew a thing.

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Poet’s Note

This poem was written on 1/09/2026 while reflecting on the thin space right before everything tips. The moment when your body knows something is about to break, even if the world around you sees nothing. I was referencing the stopped BPD splitting with controlled breathing and willpower. However, this could reference any different type of mental illness that sends you into something outside of your normal. 

For me, this moment often comes with a strange laugh, or a quiet giggle. The nervous echo before a split, a spiral, or a panic surge takes over. It is the warning bell my nervous system rings when I am about to lose myself.

Instead of letting it crash, I try to let it breathe. 

The more I do breathing work. The more I work at it, the more successful of a tool it is, for me.

That breath is not always peaceful, though; it is a decision. A small, private act of staying true to me. The kind no one claps for, because no one even knows it happened.

This poem is for anyone who has ever held themselves together in silence, who felt the wave rising and chose, just for that moment, to stay upright.

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