My mental health is not something anyone will understand. It's for me to understand. It's for me to grasp. It's for me to take care of. It's my burden. It's my way of life. It's the things that hold me back that I refuse to let come to light. My mental health is breaking myself down. It's hating my guts and looking in the mirror and wishing I was different. Or anyone else but me. Or anywhere else but here. Or looking for some other time but here and now. And lately I've been seeing time tick by slower than I can imagine. That life is in a constant state of less action. Like I was on pause. Like my life couldn't continue like this, change had to happen. Like there was nowhere for me to be. There was no life for me to have. No place for me to reside.
I don't exist.
I'm a figment of imagination.
A glimpse of something,
That was once great.
A woman who lost her way.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
PoetryTired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
