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I hate the way she doesn’t let me choose,
I hate the way she can’t see me happy.
I hate the way she stops me doing things I like to do,
I hate the way she doesn’t listen to me or understand me, or maybe both.

Sometimes I wonder do u even wanted me in the first place or was I a mistake.

You make me feel so bad about myself.

You seem so proud. I’m waiting for the day I bring you shame and see you feel so scattered and feel good about it, looking into your eyes, while your proudness burns into the ground.

If everything could be okay from grooming and taking a bath every day, then I promise I would’ve done that every day twice. But u never see me apart from my face, if I bathed or not, or which slippers I’m wearing. 

I really wanted u to see me as I am. Yes, I know I seem confident, someone on their own, not afraid. But no, I get scared too because my self-esteem is rotting. I’m starting to believe the things you attached to me, my flaws.

It’s so frustrating to experience how someone can only see someone’s flaws. Maybe it’s my flaw that I don’t forget how you make me feel.

Like I didn’t forget when you told me I will end up alone and no one can bear with me as I’m unworthy of love. I believed it, not going to lie and I still do I guess.

Do you not even consider me your daughter? It feels like you have only two kids, or maybe I’m just too greedy.

I just wanted you to listen to me and understand me and not discourage me and to really really see me, I craved for that. Now I’m growing up, and I’m not going to beg you for that.

Only flaws, that’s all u see, both of you, appearance, height, colour.

I heard these things before and I thought home is people's safe space, took me a long time to understand that it wasn’t mine.

I don’t know if I’m doing it for attention or this is that sad wave of BPD but I just do not feel good about myself. It's unbearable because it is happening, again and again, like okay the wave it is right? then come, stay, and leave but it just keeps coming back with the same thing and I’m just tired of it I don’t want to go through it.

Why does it affect us so much? I do not care about you, okay, you just did what you could with your own childhood and upbringing I don’t think it’s even your fault, but I don’t know what it is anymore.

I don’t know if I like you or hate you I just don’t know.

I get so confused with my emotions sometimes because I thought I had it all figured out but I’m failing again and the only difference I can see is that it’s getting really tough now.


I sat with this thought long enough to draw a sentence into a picture.

I wonder sometimes how the most cheerful times of our life, childhood, can shape us as a person. I’m not blaming it all on the childhood of course there are other situations but don’t we feel broken deep down? Broken beyond repair.

Do ever feel like the more bad experiences we get, the more it feels like we can have more of it? Or maybe feel like you’re living in a loop so tough every hour every min feels like a burden or just something really heavy tied to your body and brain? No?

I think deep down we all want to feel lighter like the dead. To be dead once and for all.

Is it too sensitive to talk about how we imagine getting struck with an accident, jumping out of the building, cutting ourselves to death, or someone killing us?

I read somewhere that u can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.

I won’t leave, I’ll try my best because I know how difficult it can be for people around us.

But if I do someday, just know, that I tried.

And I tried very hard. I did not stop waking up each day when I just wanted to sleep forever.

I did not jump off the floor when it was unbearable to stay.

I did not give up when I couldn’t open up to anyone, even though you all tried your best to help.

I think the worst thing is not suicide, the worst thing is attempting suicide and coming out of it alive.

As selfish and ignorant I sound, I think each day I understand more that I don’t want to complain about people and things not working out because that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?

'Not working out.'

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