I don't know a word to describe how I feel now. Building up too much pressure and frustration that I can't vent. I don't cry anymore, it hurts I know but I don't cry. It is turning into something I don't know.
Prolonged loneliness at its best playing tricks with my mind.
I'm not a bad person all I ask for is a little love, just a little. Why the fuck does it have to be so difficult to survive?
I have recently developed a habit of listening to horoscope in Youtube. It is funny how they say things are going to happen and it never happens. So many people like me are dying to hear that there is a little hope. I am wondering how no one will notice when my body decays in my small room. Ugly world.
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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...
