Seeing myself,
In this negative light.
Like I have so much to fix,
But no way to fix it.
No way to figure out what is right.
And I'm trying so hard to fight.
And do everything,
The way it was designed.
But I can't seem to figure out the controls.
Or the right words.
Or hacks on this thing called life.
Starting to give up on myself.
This started a bit early.
We're months away from me knowing,
That I'm a fucking mess.
Months from me acting like I'm lost.
Filled with regrets.
I feel off.
I feel different.
I feel as if nobody would ever understand,
How it feels to be me.
To think the way I do,
To panic,
To not know how to breathe.
And I'm tired of not sleeping.
Of shit making me depressed.
I'm tired of not being normal.
Of making a mess.
It's always me
Ruining the best things for me.
Like I can't handle shit else but pain.
I'm fucking up so bad.
It's starting to hurt my brain.
It's starting to make me see answers,
Running through traffic,
And falling so that,
I could fuck up my brain.
It's buildings and cars,
And pills and razor blades.
Making me feel so ill.
Putting electricity through my veins.
Making me feel so numb.
It's starting.
I think this might be the end of it all,
Despite all my constant efforts.
I think this is the last draw.
No light left for me it's dim.
Slowly dimming and I fear
I'll be gone before the light show,
Disappears.
- Written 07/15/2020.
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...
