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WpMetadataReadВ процессе<5 min
WpMetadataNoticeLast published суб, окт. 24, 2020
TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM/SUICIDE/ABUSE When your mind is your worst enemy, who do you trust? I don't trust my own voice. Is it really mine? Am I even here? Can you see me? Can you hear me? Do I exist? I don't trust my own hands. I don't trust anything that tells me it will all be okay. I don't belong in my body and I am just floating as my body takes control and tries to protect me from me. Is everything a façade? Is this a game? An illusion? Am I trapped? Can I get out? Can't I just have a normal life with some friends, a bit of sadness, a bit of joy and just a little bit of crazy? Why is everything so extreme? Why do I feel so intensely? My existence is a mirage. I am stuck in a loop and I don't know how to get out of it. I tell myself it is alright but the voice tells me it is not. It tells me that I am faking it. It tells me that I am a liar. It tells me I crave attention. It tells me that everything happening to me is just an act. I believe it and forget to believe myself. Every action is filled with doubt. Is this me? Is this what I would do? Or am I just pretending to be someone else? My hands turned against me last night. I tried to stop them but I think they had had enough. They choked my throat as I struggled to scream. I begged two helping hands to hold me down. They did but how do I forget what I did? How do I forget when I don't even know if I exist anymore? How do you know it is you when all you are is a name?
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borderlinepersonalitydisorder
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"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard

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