Let's DanceLife and Death
They talk to me every day
and I talk back
often with my middle finger raised.
throws things at me
"I dare you.
You can't beat these."
and I say
"Bring it. I will fight
every one of them."
beckons to me every day
whispering in my ear
breathing down my neck
"Come with me
and the pain will end."
and I say
"Leave it. I will fight
for every inch of my life."
throws me one hell of a curveball
straight at my head
a new trick it's never tried before
I catch it one-handed
and turn to Life and Death.
and I say
Family Room -self-injury-In the family room, everyone just sits aroundFamily Room -self-injury-4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Fingers click on keyboards, intermittent sound
Mom looks up "support," dad searches "behavior"
The girl just types "somebody find me a savior"
They covered the basics, her wrist's bandaged up
They told her they loved her, praying that was enough
Mom hopes that she'll live, dad prays that she'll smile
The girl just asks if she can sleep for a while
None of them knows how it started or why
What first consumed her with daydreams to die
Mom wants it to end, dad wants it to heal
The girl just wishes that she couldn't feel
The trinity sits in the room they abhor
Depression and discord make horrid decor
Mom wants to run from it, dad wants to fight it
The girl just wants to disappear inside it
In the family room, nobody utters a word
Nothing is spoken so nothing is heard
Mom loves the silence, Dad wants to speak up
The girl just lies there and pretends it's love.
BPDI hate myself for making mistakes.BPD3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hate myself for hurting people.
I hate myself for having borderline personality disorder.
I hate myself for being an attention whore because of BPD.
I hate myself for being manipulative because of BPD.
I hate myself for exaggerating things because of BPD.
Basically, I hate myself for having a disorder.
Because you can't fix BPD.
You can learn to live with it, but you can't fix it.
BPD people are fucked up and that's all the detail I'm going to go into.
Google it if you're curious.
It should explain the million journals
and the constant complaining
and the blowing things out of proportion
and the overreactions
and everything else you hate about me
(and that I hate about myself.)
BPD is a personality disorder.
You can't change someone's personality.
It's a personality type
(dangerous, unpleasant, disgusting)
that stems from
They haven't figured me out yet.
I can't change it.
I can't fix it.
I can't make it go away
no matter how much I wa
Letter MemeROFL THIS IS HILARIOUS. I rarely do memes anymore but this one was worth doing. Seriously, rofl.Letter Meme3 years ago in Personal More Like This
I don't really know how to tell you this, but I dislike you. I think I realized it when you put cuffs on me at the mental hospital and I saw you sit on my avocado plant. I'm sure you're man enough to understand that your pimples are at the last stage. I'm returning the pictures of LA to you,but I'll keep your collection of butterflies as a memory. You should also know that I told in my confession today about our friendship.
Good luck on your short-term leave from jail,
I TAG EVERYONE BECAUSE THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY AMUSING. "I think I realized it when you put cuffs on me at the mental hospital." ohhhh my gaaaaawd also yeah, Maya, good luck on your leave from jail. Maya is like...she would never end up in jail. ...okay, she MIGHT go to jail for "sexually assaulting" (read: glomping) a celebrity. DAVEY GLOMP!
RULES: Do the "Letter MEME". Tag no less
VIII. a note on self-injury. let me be the first to tell you that cutting doesn't bring about the same pain that an accidental slice, abrasion, wound, or nick does.VIII. a note on self-injury.7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
relief, calm, focus, release, yes-
but pain? hardly.
a doctor might tell you that the two wounds are the same. but any cutter will tell you that no other scrape or cut will run as read, as true- with as much force as that which is self-inflicted.
a cut, you see, is perfect. it's kind. it's understanding. it washes away all chaos and emotional turmoil with beads of red (and if you're deep enough, mahogany) that quickly join and run down the length of your arm.
a cut is simple. predictable. the slice, the bite. the blood. the scab. the itching the next day. the eventual scarring. the fading. and when you can no longer see the angry marks, the inexplicable and undeniable urge to make them appear again.
even your excuses are bland a
First of the Danger Days - 1"P-please don't shoot me."First of the Danger Days - 14 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The scarlet-haired man stared at the little girl. "If I was gonna shoot you, I would've done it when I first saw you."
She huddled into herself a little bit more, hugging her knees with her tiny arms. He kicked himself mentally. You can't just say things like that to little kids! he thought. Okay, try to be comforting.
I'm not good at comforting, he said to himself. But I'll try.
"I'm, uh I'm not gonna shoot you," he said. "I Jesus, kid, what are you doing all the way out here? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"
"They're dead," she whispered, staring at the sand.
"I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Look isn't there anyone who can keep an eye on you?"
"So you're alone." He found it hard to believe what she was saying. A tiny little kid no more than eight, by the looks of her surviving out in Zone 4 all by herself? She must have had help.