I want to tell you about what I saw yesterday. I’m trying not to use clichés, trying to come up with utterly original language to convey this amazing thing. I’ve finally decided that utterly original language is not what’s needed here. I don’t need to be perfect (although everyone with BPD needs to be perfect).
I saw this sticky note on the wall of the bus I was riding. It took me a moment to understand what I was reading, but once I did, all I could think of was whether I could get a picture before I had to get off the bus. It was just about the most beautiful thing I’d seen all day.
“Your Loved,” the note said. The BPD brain said, “That’s not how you spell ‘you’re’.” The me-without-illness brain said, “I so needed to see this right now.”
It was a love note from a stranger, written to anybody who might need it. Somebody sat in that seat and deliberately left a message for the next person who sat there, whoever that person might be. Somebody sent love out into the universe, and will never know that I received it, or that anyone received it at all. Somebody took such a tiny little action, an almost futile action when you consider the enormity of the world.
And I felt loved.
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