I've been abused horrifyingly so since I was about 7 or 8 years old. My only childhood memories consist of finding horrible things on my parents computer and being raped while I was sleeping (I think I was 15 and a half years old) I knew from a young age I would never be able to leave the abusive party in any way other than death, so every day during my teenage years I would fall asleep praying to die at least 100 times before falling asleep, well the prayer exactly was I would die peacefully before morning... I'd rather been dead than alive my whole life but my problem was I had no idea how to commit suicide to end the life that I didn't want. I would wish on stars, birthday candles, you name it. If you could wish on it, my wish would be that I would die as soon as possible and that would be painless. So I had planned since 9 or 10 years since, none of my prayers seemed to work that I would kill myself by gunshot to the head. I would have much rather died before ever taking any high school or any middle school classes, but I had no idea how to kill myself. High school was the worst time of my life. I was the odd kid out because I was being abused at home. 
                              In 2017, I turned 18 and that was the year I had vowed to myself that I would kill myself by a gunshot to the head. When I was 15 my abusers started assigning fat men to grab me and started shoving needles in my veins. I have no idea why they ever did these things. I guess the point I am trying to make is I am only alive today 100% against my will and only because they held me hostage.
                              My prayers and wishes now are only the same as they have always been that I will die soon and painlessly. I really hope that I will get a shotgun or some other type of gun in a month or two and I hope I kill myself... that is the only thing I've ever wanted. I am looking forward to it. I will be happy to finally die after being held hostage by people I hate all these years where nothing has happened.
                                      
                                          
                                  
                                              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...
