I'm emotionally unavailable. I'm drained so terribly. I'm trying to find my place in life but finding nothing but wrong turns and wrong lights and wrong paths and people. I'm finding myself in places I told myself I would no longer visit. Like graveyards late at night when my mind should be at rest. Instead I'm thinking of the last place I'd like to rest. In a red satin lined coffin. Filled with letters and poems and stories of me. Filled with roses too. Beautiful black and red roses. Surrounded by the people who loved me. Crying softly but with smiles none the less. They know I'm at peace and that my mind can actually rest. Except this is all in my head. Late night thoughts no one ever hopes would come true. Late night thoughts I hoped would become truth. But no one would ever find peace with my death, not the way I see it in my head. Not the way I've planned it ahead.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
PoetryTired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
