I’ve never been the prettiest, or the smartest. I’ve been called the nicest, but too often it’s just an act I put on. All those disspointments in myself buit up until I no longer wanted to live. So I took 30 Advil on the night of my 16 birthday and went to bed. Obviously, it didn’t work. My mom came home early from work and found the suicide note before she was suppose to. Being in a mental insisution was so different and surreal, but I’ve learned a lot. In a violent mood swing and as an effect of my BPD, I made a rash decision. I still don’t understnad where it all went wrong, how I let it get so bad. But I did. To be honest, I don’t regret it. Trying (and failing) to commit suicide was the wake up call that I needed, the sudden realization of how bad I was getting. I suppose I could blame my dperession on my BPD or my unsteady home life and past, but in reality, it’s my own failures that fuel my depression.

I remember the little girl that I sued to be. I was a very go lucky little one, excitable and vibrant, one of those kids that just doens’t sit still. And I can still feel her in me, even though I did all I could to kill her, to bury her in the ground with my past, not realizing that she was the most beautiful and innocent part of who I am.

 I suppose there are many facets of my personaility; the jaded side, the selfish side, the tragic and self abusing side. I may not like all those sides, but they are still a part of me and who I am. I will never be the girl I was before I tried to kill myself. That girl shattered into a thousand pieces the moment I sealed the envelope and laid back onto my bed, prepared for death, wanting it desperatley. And now, with agonizying slowness, I’m pciking up the pieces again, prepared to do it all on my own, and wanting to do it all on my own. Some of the pieces may be missing or too far damaged for repair, but I will replace those pieces with something stronger. 

This insane and cruel world that we live in, can be beautiful, if we only took the time to see through all the pain and despair. If we cold only look within ourselves, and feel that hot burning flame that makes us alive, makes us human and makes us care, not only for ourselves but for everything around us. Hate is present in all of us, as well as anger and bitterness. But so is beauty, so is the ability to choose to be good people. We have the choice to stand up against all that is trying to break us down, or curl up and let it strip us of our humanity. It is so hard too fight, I understand that. But it’s worth the fight. Feeling whole and happy is worth fight, and you’re worth the fight also. But nobosy else is going to do it for you. We create our own personal hells, we’ve laid in them for too long now. And while that hell may always be present within you, lock that door and persevere. You may be truly alone in this world, so why spend so much time hating all that you are? 

This little rambling of mine reminds me of one of my favorite quotations:

"Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Much love and support- Diana 

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