I feel empty and tired as hell. Life is exhausting. Everything is starting to weigh down on me. Everything is making me feel overwhelmed, even just little things. Why am I still here? I really don't know anymore. Maybe I'm still thinking that there could be happiness somewhere. Or maybe not. Then why don't I just do something? If I have nothing to lose, why can't I just do something? Anything. Why can't I find myself? I should be going on an adventure to look for the old me, but for some reason I can't. Maybe I'm too scared. Maybe it won't even work. Maybe I don't want to find a life of my own. I don't know. I want to push myself to do it. I have nothing to lose. What's stopping me?
I've hated my life for so long I have no idea what being happy is. I've hung myself, drank bleach and window cleaner and I threw it back up. I want to die but I'm scared to, but I fear the next day and dread tonight. I want to leave this world and live a life where I control what happens not others controlling and ruining my life. I'm the outcast of my school, everyone thinks I'm a joke. I sit in the back of my class because I was verbally abused for years that I don't care yet I'd rather not hear the emo jokes I've heard for a year now. I don't care if I'm emo it doesn't mean I don't feel anything I just want the pain to stop, is that so much to ask for? I guess so I don't even know why I'm writing this it won't help me. Nothing won't help me. I honestly want to shut down. I'm fat. I weigh 170 pounds and they say it's muscle but I know it's not. I just want someone to look at me and see the pain in me and say "I won't hurt you" I want someone to help me instead of my family PAYING people to give a shit. I'm tired of all this pain. I just can't take it. Maybe one day I'll look back and say wow I lived through that but I think no such thing will happen. I was born to suffer I'd die to win because I'm born to lose and I just want to do something right. I mess up everything I do and I can't do it anymore. I can't keep lying to myself saying I'll be fine when I'm dead on the inside in a shell.
YOU ARE READING
The things I think of when I'm alone
PoetryUnbearable pain that is expressed and acknowledged becomes bearable. But people who have suffered from BPD received no such responses in their childhood. Therefore, they are stuck in the past, trying to elicit what they needed as a child-validation...
