Say it with me

I like the words low self-esteem. That makes it seem like there is hope. That one day it can come back.

Now zero self-esteem, that is a different story. That means there is no chance of it coming back without some outside help.

But how can we go about life lacking it and expect others to help us. We are always being told that if we do not love ourselves then no one else will love us. So what if a person hates themselves with a passion, does that mean that they will always be alone?

I like to think that there is a chance they can be happy. It will just take someone from the outside to help them see the light.

She used to be hopeful

She used to try

She used to smile

Once upon a time

A bright future a head of her

But her head in the clouds

She used to be normal

Then she was found

In a backend ally

With her knees on the ground

Surrounded by people

But lost in the sound

She used to be everything

She used to be love

Now she is nothing

Someone we all judge

Needle in her arm

And hate in her heart

How did this happen

What tore her world apart?

She used to be helpful

She used to be wise

She used to be everything

In her loved ones eyes

But now she is found

Laying in the ground

Surrounded by people

But lost in the sound

Of her own imagination

Of her own mistakes

She used to full of life

And now she slowly breaks

Needle in her arms

Blood on her legs

Crawling on the ground

To get away from the people

That roughly surround

She wants to be lost

Stuck in her own sound

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As long as you will have me

I figured this would happen but still I had hoped

I had prayed with all my soul that this will be ok

But yet again my prayers end in vain

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have never felt this pain though I know of many who have. Today we sit in remembrance of those who have lost a small part of them. A child was taken without reason.

We bow our heads to the ground then lift them on high. We allow ourselves to cry for little ones we never got to meet, taken from us way to soon.

No parent should ever be forced to outlive their child. This is not the plan. We are supposed to be long dead before they join us.

See I have never felt such a pain. I have never had a miscarriage but I know many who have. I have never had a stillbirth, but I know many who have. And for those many that I know I cry for them.

I say to them that I am sorry for their loss. That I am there for them whenever they need me. I will not tell them that it was Gods plan. I will not tell them how they should be happy that they can even have kids. I will not lie tell them this sick twisted words.

Instead I will hold them close and tell them I love them.

Instead I will do my best to love them, to show them I love them, and help them the best I can as they heal.

For this is a pain that never goes away. It lingers near even when things seem ok. I will be there for them as long as they have me.

To all those who have lost a little one. Know that you are loved. Know that it isn’t your fault no matter the means. That you are cared for. Know that no one will ever forget the person who isn’t with us today. That we are with you. Know that no matter what I am with you.

The Liar in me

Eating a small childs candy shouldn’t make me feel like a monster…but it does. Especially if that child is my own. Most times then naught she will go lookong for said candy in hopes of having it for herself. There are times when I just tell her that she may have misplaced the candy or may have already eaten it.

Of course it is a lie but I do it every time. With Halloween coming around I start to fear for my sanity. Just how many pieces of chocolate will go missing?

How many now and laters will I consume before she starts to take notice?

Granted many of the candies I eat she is to young to have but when will it end???

I often have to remind myself that in only a few short years she will be able to go trick or treating without me. She will be able to count and control her hoard of sweets. I will be left out unless I do the right thing….be an adult and buy my own candy instead of stealing my daughters.

But what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t teach her not to share. At least that is what I am telling myself as I munch on her jawbreakers.

Not worth it

People are not worth trusting. They all lie, every single last person, I hate it so much. I wish I could just find some place to be alone. Some place where no one can hurt me but myself.

Where it is safe to be me and just simmer in my pain. But I can’t, I have responsibilities that make it so I have to stay here. So I go on pretending that everything is ok when it is not. I get my hopes up only to be shot down in the end.

I hate people. I hate people so much and I hate myself most of all.

Story of make believe 

Hello, I am black

It is not who I am but the color of my skin

Not my name but what I am known for

Hello,I am black

This is a statement and fact

Something to which I can not change

No matter how much others may want it

I can not dye it a certain flavor

To make it easier for others to savour

It doesn’t change my insides

Though I know how much you want me to hide

Hi, I am black

This fact holds me back

Makes others decide my fate in life

Not allowed to say my piece before it is pointed out to me

That I am, in fact, black

Judge and hated by those who crave it

A rebellious phase to touch

Punished lust, so hide we must

Locked doors with a passion

My skin worn like Fashion

Hello, I am black

This statement brings a bad taste to your mouth

Apology accepted for your ancestors lies

Yet sit and swallow your own words everytime a

Black person gives you a verse

Judge least not be judged

Your ancestors chose a path that you have since denied

Yet you turn a blind eye to what has not changed

Hi, I am black

I am still suppose to sit towards the back

Accept the fact that you are the golden one

Shut my mouth against the hurt and the pain

That you have since spit anyways

But it is not always your fault

See others who share my trait still hate

Still try and hit me behind the stable

Cause I am different and unable

To love someone with the same traits

The same facts as me.

Call me a slave who loves thy master

Stockholm Syndrome spewed from a friendly pastor.

Whose only saving Grace is their age.

Their wisdom behind what truly happened.

Laying with the same face that beats and rapes

Is this what was suppose to happen?

Have I made my ancestors proud?

Hello, I am black

And this fact has shaped my very being

Made me say an do things I do not mean

Made me afraid of change for change sake

Made me hate those who continue to debate the truth

The truth being that I am just like you.

With all my traits, we are the same

On the inside at least

My skin should not be the factor for my future and my past

Should not be the reason I am set back by the classes

Hated by masses who look like me

Speak like me

Think like me

All because I am black

Hated by those who hurt like me

Who are broken like me

Who live their lives like me

Because I decided to ignore the divide

And love someone I shouldn’t

There is a thin line between us all yet I dared to be the bridge

So watch as others shield the eyes of their kids

Watch as they turn their backs on my fact

Because of whom I love and the color that is me

Hello, I am black

This is statement and fact

But it should not define me

Ideal situations: My BPD 

Do you think they would tell her why I did it? Or would they keep it a secret and let her guess.

Would they tell her that I gave up on life?

Or would they explain to her how much I tried to survive.

Tell her how much I love her and how I cared. How many days I spent crying cause I wanted to be there. Those days I hated myself she is the only one who could make me believe.

In the end will they tell her the truth or would they just pretend?

I often wonder what would happen if I was to give in. I can’t do it cause I love her so, but damn, I want my life to end.
What would they tell my little girl if I was to succeed.  A bunch of bullshit lies or the truth they didn’t want to see.

I fucking hate myself and want to die but I can’t.

I have a little girl who needs me, at least that is what they tell me.

I think she will be ok. Rather be dead with her grieving then go about life hating the world because of my depression. Hating the world cause of my urges.

I rather her know that I love her and I tried then go through life hating it cause I made it hell.
But still…

If I did it what would they tell her.

My precious baby girl, what would they say.

In my head my death is a welcomed gift. Finally things will be ok.

But would they tell her this. Or would they make her think she was a mistake.

I love her so very much. Why Can’t I be allowed to give up?

I know they will tell her lies so that is why I stay. I stay so she will know that I love her everyday. I know her life will be hell and I know she may regret me. Still, I will be the bigger person and live despite being so empty

Long distance means nothing to me. 

When I was a child, I had a friend who lived in China.  I am not exactly sure what made us start being friends. I just know that nearly everyday I would try my hardest to stay up so that we could talk. With me being in America and 15, this was not always an easy feat. Still I considered this young man to be my brother. 

He was the kindest person I knew at the time. Even though we could only talk maybe 30 mins or so I still looked forward to our talks. 

Eventually I lost contact with him. I do not know the reason or even when we stopped talking, just that we did. 

I still think of him. He helped me through so much in life. 

I can only hope that he knows I still love him. He was the brother I did not get to keep. 

I love him so much. 

And miss him all the more.