I'm genuinely thankful for the 5 friends who make time for me, check on me, don't allow me to suffer in silence, or cry alone, give me a hand to hand, a heart that knows. Loneliness is killer man. There's only so much one can do stuck in their room, living in a home of emotional abuse. Struggling to find a job, a way out, because my health put life on hold. I've always been kind, given my all to who ever required it, still do. Guess I'm not good at doing others like they do me. I won't let my heart grow hate. Sadness though, my soul knows too well. So profoundly. If one had taken the time to read my poetry, to actually listen to me, they may understand why I just don't exist. The more I'm unheard, the more it rings true. I don't actually believe demons control my mind, nor do I want to literally sell my soul. Poetry speaks metaphorically and I speak of my darkness boldly....that's BPD. It's in the sitting with it that I've grown and began to find my light. Both most co=exist....I admit though, it's getting harder to hold onto the light, the will to exist. No it's not dependent solely on others, but loneliness should be a sin. Honestly I want to disassociate, let the demons win. Now I'm sitting here crying. I've been trying to hold it in. I reckon it's the need for a long hug, touch starvation is rough. Guess I'm gonna hit my shin with this ink. What better to do with all of these emotions. OH, my period just started....that's why I'm so emotional...and the BPD
I write to get it out.