Had a best friend who I thought I'd have for the rest of my life. They had BPD. I loved them so much that I bought books about it to try to understand them. They would snap on me and I met them with patience and gave as much space as needed. They would come back to me with appreciation. We would feel closer than before.

I let them use my shopping accounts. From time to time over the years I bought them little things they couldn't buy on their SSI money. I talked to them for hundreds and hundreds of hours. I gave them several hundred dollars to help their sick pet once. I never expected any of this money to come back and I was okay with that because this person's happiness meant that much to me.

They eventually completely split on me when I told them I was speaking to someone again -- who they hated. I guess they felt replaced. The thing is, my friend had a history of talking to people that were Terrible with a capital T.

These people have threatened my friend's life, made my friend's love life miserable, and destroyed any ounce of trust. It is much darker than that. My friend could never sever the ties with these people. I would get pissed, but I understood, because we were kind of alike -- and ultimately, my friend was a grown adult, a few years older than me. I cannot assume agency over an adult. I cannot tell an adult what to do. I can advise, and hope for the best.

So, we don't talk anymore because I was honest and admitted that I was trying to repair a relationship with someone that had previously been extremely toxic. My friend made a big deal of feeling betrayed and replaced and horrified and offended. I've thought about this a lot because I wanted to eventually live with or near my friend. I was ready to make more sacrifices for my friend's happiness up until this point. The last thing I was told was "I can't fucking deal with you, have a nice life hahaha." Then I was blocked and deleted on all platforms.

BPD is a horrible illness and yet this experience would not put me out of befriending someone else with it. Many people relay stories of being on the receiving end of BPD rage and swearing off people with BPD forever. I don't blame them, because it's not easy at all to cope with someone who one day reveres you and next day thinks you're the devil himself, literally.

I just can't help but feel like the illness was used as a scapegoat to get out of a friendship that my friend was no longer interested in, after I'd expended as much help and resources as I could. At the time we stopped talking, I was on a downward spiral in life that I was trying to hide from my friend out of respect to drama in their life. I imagine I outlived my use moreso than this personality disorder killed our friendship. We had gone through much worse experiences. The thing that ended our friendship was bland in comparison.

Sorry if the pronouns are confusing, but I am trying to be as vague as possible while telling a story I have been needing to tell for a while. Thanks for this opportunity.