I got lines on my wrists. They're all horizontal not vertical. So don't worry I didn't try and take myself this time. I tried to feel. I tried to create a moment where everything was real. And in that moment the only thing that I could feel was pain. And that was exactly what I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel something. And so I took a razor blade to my wrists. And I cut it horizontally. Over and over and over again. Until the cuts seemingly began to overlap against each other. Until they touched. Until they began to bleed endlessly.
But then I began to feel...
But then I began to feel...
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...
