Tomorrow

Today I do not really feel good. My depression is getting to me. I can not leave my house unless someone actually makes me leave. I can’t say no to invite no matter how much I want to.

I sit and struggle to stay awake. Sleeping forever seems like such a good idea right now.

I get so frustrated….so angry with just about everything.

My daughter was singing today and it felt as though she was scrapping her nails against a chalkboard. Not to say she couldn’t sing but the sound. The fact that she was happy and singing made me so mad. I had to leave the room. I apologized for telling her to stop. No! Not telling, I freaking yelled for her to stop.

She got so upset so I apologized, but the anger was still there.

I had to leave the room for a bit. I didn’t go back for maybe 30 mins or more. Just hid in my room and cried.

I am doing this all on my own. I have friends but I can’t feel it. Like there is a void that is stopping me from accepting the fact that people…Care

It hurts. I know that it is there and it hurts. I hate myself for feeling this way, but who can I talk to? I feel as though I am being judged all the time. So who can I talk to? Who can really help me understand that things are not what they seem.

My?

Maybe…

Honestly I am just going through the motions.

Wading through this until it ends. That is all I can do. So I do it.

I am ever grateful for the people who put up with me regardless.

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I can’t remember me

 

Just another part of the machine allowing to to function

going on about life as though it was nothing

I was different and now I am not

I am one of the group

part of the flock

a follower of the mans word

Someone with a lot of fault

I never meant for this to happen

I just wanted the pain to stop

I do not know how I got this way

It truly wasn’t suppose to be

but I needed a reason to continue on breathing

So here I am, phone in hand

pretending to give a damn about those around me

 

Drop Dead Reader

There is a whisper in the wind that tells of an old friend. Someone who is missed above all else. Silent and unseen, the words tumble to and fro. Going ignored by those who are meant to see.

Dearest Reader,

I am a work in progress. I allow my world to rule me. I allow the actions of others to decide my fate. This is something I have always done, it is all I really know.

I try my hardest to change but I just keep making excuses to stay the same. For that I deeply sorry. Dearest reader I will not promise to change, because I know that at this moment I can’t, but I do promise to get better. To be better than all of this.

I want to write stories that change the world. And I can, I just need to change myself first.

So here I go. A step in a direction I do not know. Wish me luck dearest reader. I will need it.

Letter to myself

I feel like a crappy mother

And no

I do not need your consent to feel this way

I feel like a crappy mother

One so full of mistakes

I rage

I scream

I cry

I do just about anything

that makes her miserable inside

I hide

I lie

I wish to die

I do just anout every thing that

can bring her pain

I am a crappy mother

Despite her smiles and kisses

Despite that fact that she is full of joy

I know

That I am a horrible parent

I do not deserve her love

Her forgiveness

Or her hugs.

I am a crappy mother

I do not need your consent to feel this way

I just need you to tell me

that you feel the same

I am horrible

Disgusting

Alone

Full of despair

I need you to tell me that nothing is going well.

She is my precious baby girl

Whom I love with my whole soul

But I know

That I am not a good person

I am a fucking mess

I will only bring her down

Yet for what it is worth

I could never give her up.

A/N

I have Borderline Personality Disorder. It is a disorder that is often misdiagnosed but once a person is said to have it, get ready for the judgemental gazes.

Many drs are not willing to work with someone who has bpd and we are automatically assumed to be high risk.

I looked up parenting with bpd and a lot of what I found were children of those who had talking about their shitty childhoods.

Now as a single mom I already feel like I am making every mistake in the book. Not to say those who are not single have more confidence just that they tend to get more support.

But to find out that my disorder can cause my daughter trauma well into her adulthood was…scary…(12am big words unknown)

I want her to have a good life. With or without me.

Ask and answer

I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.

Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.

I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.

For awhile I have the will to survive.

What kind of future will she have?

Will I be there or will I be dead?

How can I make her happy?

How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?

I ask myself because I can.

I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.

Cut and Burn

It burns inside.

The urge to do some harm to a vital part of me.

All the while screaming for some form of release.

‘Someone fucking save me from this hell.’

Yet I know no one will.

I am all alone with a dull blade.

Ready to cut but can’t seem to figure out where.

I want it to hurt

I need it to hurt

I can feel it before I start to slice.

Take awhile to get things right.

Decided to just push with all my might

Since I made them hide the good knives.

Tiles floors splattered red

Favorite place cause the walls always stare

I like to think that this is the only room that care

It burns inside of me now

The urge to cut till I am there

Holding a dull blade against my vitals

Screaming for some release

‘You had your chance to fucking save me’

Though I know no one is there

A cut that is quickly fading

The door tells me what a good girl I am

Broken Heart

Wouldn’t it be poetic to die of a broken heart?

To just give up when the moment calls for it. No more fighting, no more trying.

Just let it all end.

Allow your heart strings to shrivel up and fade.

It will all be ok.

I loved someone, or at least, I got something close to love for them.

It ended up being a lie.

Everything they told me was just a lie.

Not something small either. They told me they where dying and I believed them. The signs where there that something was amiss but in the haze of love I didn’t see it. Not until it was to late and I had already invested so much into our relationship.

How can someone tell such a lie?

How can someone use someone is such a fashion?

I feel betrayed. I want to hurt them like they have hurt me.

I was told that it could help to write it all down.

To get it out of my system in some way.

At first i thought to make a letter and send it to them.

Instead I will write on my blog about it.

I haven’t been in here in such a long time because I felt like they needed me more. I gave up I loved for them so I will use what I love to return that pain in kind.

I will not destroy them as I so very much wish to. Instead I will have them understand my pain. In my own special way.