disposable.

I feel disposable. To everyone I have ever met. The harder I try, the harder I fail. Never good enough. Flaws constantly being brought to the surface. No matter how hard I try to rise above. To be good. To be what I should be. I get dragged by the weight of my shortcomings. It is like BPD is a chain that I am forever connected to. The farther I try and outrun it. The quicker it is to tear me back. Will this ever go away? Will I ever feel like I am enough? Will I ever fight for the respect and appreciation that I should believe I deserve? Will I ever care enough about myself to fight for that ordinary life that most people find so easy to have? Or will I forever be chained an restricted by the chemical imbalance in my brain that no amount of medications can ever truly extinguish. I am a shell of a person pretending to be whole. Take a closer look. I am a shimmer trying to be seen. I am a lie trying to be truth. I need to care about what I need in life. I need to be strong and fight for what should be mine. But I’m not strong. I’m weak. I’m intensely sensitive. Pathetically insecure. Why should I even continue fighting. My weaknesses will always rise to the surface. I am bound to fail. Always.

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