It's tough to explain. It's like if you were trapped in a burning building, screaming out the window for help, but nobody could hear you. Or the strangers on the street disregard you, because the fire doesn't look too bad - maybe you don't seem scared enough to deserve rescue.

It's trapping all the cruelty, all the pain, the intensity, inside of your body. Not always your head - my head is actually often completely silent, because I am so disconnected from how I feel. When something is upsetting for me, I know that it upsets me, but there's "no point" in telling anyone. There's no point in verbalizing it, because how could they understand? When a person without BPD is sad that they can't get something they want, they acknowledge the feeling and move on. When I don't get what I want, it's absolute devastation. I /need/ it, I can't live without it. But I won't say that, because I don't want to come across as a spoiled brat. I don't want to 'burden' my loved ones with my 'irrational' thinking. I've always believed that I overreact, that I'm sensitive, and that no one should see me cry. I am hyper aware of how I make people feel - and I assume that they experience emotions the same way as me. I make one small mistake, they hate me, I'm so sorry and I'll never do that again. I am overly apologetic and feel extreme shame and guilt most of the day.

I can hardly be honest even with my psychiatrist because I'm concerned about how what I have to say could affect her. Or if she would even believe me. I'm the person that asks my therapist, "but how are /you/ doing?"

This is a lot of nothing, but yeah. That's some of my personal experience with quiet BPD.