Datura

🌿 𝐁𝐆𝟑, 𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲 & 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 🌿 🇿🇦𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧🇿🇦

[lovelytreehugger]

I find it weird that borderline personality disorder or short bpd are three words or, in short, three letters when there is no in-between for people who have it. It's either one side or the other. Maybe in some poetical way, there is already recovery in your diagnosis.

[lovelytreehugger]

Some people will always have to fight harder than others, even on the same road.

[lovelytreehugger]

Remember where you came from and use it.

[lovelytreehugger]

I felt limp and betrayed, like the skin shed by a terrible animal. It was a relief to be free of the animal, but it seemed to have taken my spirit with it, and everything else it could lay its paws on. - Sylvia Plath

[lovelytreehugger]

What goes around comes around.

[lovelytreehugger]

Grief and guilt have made a home out of my heart. Your death could've been prevented, had I spoken up. My death could've been prevented, had it been me instead. Oh mother, you've lost two children that day.

[thememedaddy]

[gardenxkisses]

[lovelytreehugger]

[lovelytreehugger]

Listening to my psychologist like:

[lovelytreehugger]

When you look back at those impulsive choices:

[lovelytreehugger]

I woke up one morning, and all that hate I've been holding or, rather, all that hate that was holding onto me was gone. I feel entirely, completely, and utterly tiresome. As though everything that changed me didn't even exist in the first place. I know not if I'm purely exhausted or if I simply, for the moment, can't feel as I'm supposed to. One day, somewhere, there'll be a faint memory left of a girl who was never really here anyway. Nothing would be lost. Perhaps I died with my brother. Perhaps it was my family who taught me all these terrible things. Who taught me the world goes on after because moving on was easier than accountability. A slow killing. I miss the only little light I had in a very dark house. Who was a comfort when our parents could not care. I wish my brother had never died in the first place. If I could, I would trade places in a heartbeat. Sometimes, I wish I had died with him. Eternal sleep is surely kinder. I do not belong here. I want to sleep, slow breathing turned quiet and still. I want to fall asleep on my brothers grave, disintegrate, and cease to exist.

[lovelytreehugger]

God may forgive you like an imaginary friend forgives a child for forgetting. But neither of those exist nor can either of them forgive. The only forgiveness that you're in debt of is mine. Which you'll never be granted. I have goodness and fairness, but for you, I have no goodness to give. Simply put, I hope you die a terrible death.

[lovelytreehugger]

I have a brother with no beating heart nor a grave to speak to. Instead, I see every flower and tree planted within the same ground that holds his body. I respect nature because it is alive and good. But I also respect it because it carries my brothers spirit. Between the whispers of the trees and the chatter of the birds. I have the faintest memories of laughter between two innocent children.

[lovelytreehugger]

May the river wash away the ignorance of those who criticize without further thought. May the wind sweep away the arrogance from the tongues of the closed-minded. May the great spirit calm the hearts of those who attack for no reason. May they find peace in the quiet instead of praise in hearing their own voice. May a seed blossom in their head, may the roots warm their hearts. May they realize what little they actually know of this world when setting the man made apart from philosophy and existentialism. From life on this planet stretching out beyond our universe. May they be humbled without suffocation. There is no point in hoping something good comes from something bad. Only hope that bad people turn good and change their faults to corrections. May the will to change be greater than their stubbornness. Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka. 𖣂

[lovelytreehugger]

"I feel like something otherwordly in disguise, I don't fit into this world, and I don't think I'm the one who should change for it. But the problem with normal people is they like following each other instead of feeling and experiencing themselves, instead of just being. And they all look at me as if I'm the one who is lost. I question everything, feel deeply always, and look into life from the moment I wake, step outside, and go back to bed to even my dreams and nightmares. I am not lost, I am contently searching for more in everything and nothing. But those who are content with what they already know and don't seek more are the real lost. I don't like this world, I have a hard time trusting these people, unfortunately, I am stuck here, being told I am lost by lost people."

[lovelytreehugger]

People contradict themselves. They hate liars but can't stand someone who speaks the truth. They hate gossip when they are the topic but love talking about others. They hate hate when they are hated, but sleep sound after being hateful. They like hiding behind personas. That way, they will never be caught smiling when you are crying. Nor be caught crying when you are succeeding. It will only be your word against illusions. These people tire and drain me. I despise these actors, and I despise their audience all the same for giving them a stage to perform on.

[lovelytreehugger]

Sometimes, I feel so small, like a mite wrapped and trapped in a carpet. I scream with my eyes, but no one can hear me. Perhaps if they met my eyes, looked into me, they would notice the dark, miserable, and raging creature caged behind them. Maybe they could offer me a hand, but instead of help, I am always met with their feet.

I am a mite trapped and wrapped in carpet. No one even bats an eye when stepping on and over me. It is exhausting being something so odd and small in a bubble so big filled with so many similarities. And is it ever a war when I, the mite, bite the skin of the careless feet. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

[lovelytreehugger]

The past is long passed, the present is already seconds gone into the past, and the future holds the same fate, to pass and fade all the same.

We are all already dead and gone. Memories left to the walking dead. Seconds gone, everything we were and stood for swallowed by time. We are already buried under passed time before we are buried by dirt. Before time spits us out, and the earth swallows us instead.