My life isn't right anymore. I'm not normal. I forgot my head somewhere. Lost track of time, days, people. Showing a perfect image to everyone around me, but it's only a mask. A mask I am trapped in, screaming for help in my mind. But I can't let it out, I refuse. Everything makes me cry, I never cry. I met the devil, my arm is covered in slashes. I'm passing through all the phases, yes like I always have. But this is different, life officially feels off. It's a haze, I don't recognize it, everything is sinister, I am paranoid of everything. I feel sick. My mind accepted death but my body refuses it. I get teased to remind me I am trapped, but other than that I am calm and happy. At least that's what my mask portrays. Oh beautiful twisted life. I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid of dying every single day. When I wake up to when I go to sleep. It is inevitable. I will die by my own hands, my fate has already been sealed.
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...
