(since may is bpd awareness month here is a poem about my daily struggles when it comes to coping with my illnesses)
It's like walking on glass,harassed and sassed by my own self,no one can hear me because i know how to whisper.
But i get angry by my iron lips,wanting to scream and let out my emotions until my throat is sore and my voice box breaks,my ears are sewed closed and my eyes glued shut but yet i still try,i'm a mess,just a rut.
The images i see flash across my mental screen,memories so vivid and painful,photogenic memory,it's a blessing but mostly a curse,a battle field in my brain,a army attacking itself but yet the horror and things that happened and the intrusive thoughts that come through are relentless and indescribable,there's on where to escape and my sleep is like dying and living memories of what could happen and what will.
For years i've pondered my worth,a penny? A nickle? A quarter? Am i worth anything,anything at all? Well of course not,nothing at all.
Agree with me makes me angry and sad,don't agree and i'll repeat,i'm like a kid wearing a adult costume on Halloween trying to look older,that's me except it's real and the only thing that changes is the i get a little bigger,a little fatter,a little shorter.
I've prayed that my story would end,or a magic pill will fix all that ails me but never could i feel so wrong,so guilty and so lost. Now as i battle myself everyday from the morning to late at night it never stops but as i push through,as i just keep trying to survive,it feels like my energy is draining from me and i keep losing lives. To my friends,middle school,elementary,i'll never forget you,you guys haunt my dreams and my soul and i keep looking back at what we had and where it fell apart,and how it's my fault. I am be getting worse and slipping up,i want to be a pillar for those in a rut.
Let me serve a purpose to you,to show you that you're worthy to.
