Born Somewhere Else

I can feel it.

It's all disappearing, me along with it.

For the first time in what seems like forever, I ponder upon more "what if's" with certain people.

Another devil in disguise, or maybe he's an angel?

Me, being me, people fail to see why there's so much anger, lack of self worth and a cry in my screams that people can't stand.

In 2 weeks, after nearly 2 years, Sam is going to court for recording me naked. Over the months, the aggression and utter pain has faded in intensity. In saying that, every reminder of this day spikes my pulse and consumes my breathing.

Like a drug I had once taken, it paralyzed me.

What if the jury don't see that what he has done to me?

If my mother didn't realise how much damage has been done, if my mother stayed with him after knowing the truth, why would a jury care?

A bunch of strangers with little to no knowledge about perverted men.

Okay bloggers, I must admit.

- I am burning in my own hell.

I don't need to be diagnosed for me to already understand that I have BPD. It may not make any sense but ever since I was a little girl I found myself hearing whispers, having social issues and failure to maintain 1 personality within the span of 2 hours.

I tremendously swing by moods like monkeys on a vine.

I fall like crashing waves.

I pick up like shooting stars.

And fail to see beauty like a cloudy day.

I began Year 11 with a passion for this planet.

By the end of year 12, every dream; every meaningful feeling became distant. Became nothing to me.

We are coming to the end of the year and what have I learnt?

1. My sister genuinely doesn't love me.
2. My brother wants me to move out to save our relationship.
3. My mother doesn't understand what she has done to me.
4. My dad does not welcome me home, and
5. I have crashed 2 cars.

I yearn for some form of love. Something as little as appreciation from my friends.
Not only would I share half of every dollar to my name, I would provide comfort, safety and reassurance that they should not feel afraid.

These are some some simple signs that show I will always love you, if you do something as little as calling me up to ask if I am okay.

No one seems to ask me if I am okay. They just yell at me for being, me.

How could people possibly think I am this fucked up, and assume its all my doing.

No love from my mother and a father who called me acne face, shutting down everything I have to say.

I wish people could see what floats around in my brain.

Maybe they wouldn't make me feel so guilty for being who I am.

Could it be true? Could I be from another planet and forget my past life?

Maybe the US Government have flashed my memory card and threw me into the New World..

Maybe Samara Ward is a conspiracy theory?

In saying that, only a crazy person would jump to that kind of conclusion, right?