Refunds and Yelling

I just want to scream into the wind. Into the vast empty places of this world and be heard. It feels bitter and ironic that I'm listing to Sway With Me as I write this. Music is my white noise, my drug of choice. An if attention seeking is yours then who am I to judge you?

My past is spotted with dark dots of deeds that I've done wrong. That I knew better but wanted to do anyway. I lacked such value and belief in what I was of worth I did degrading things to hurt me, to grant me the attention I so deeply desired but didn't feel like I was getting. Little girl lost is running, running free, running angry. I must say it's not that surprising to find pity alive and well this early in the morning.

Part of me was taken away such a long time ago and I'm so angry. I'm so angry that something damaged me so much, that my chemicals and experiences broke me this much. I wonder how long it started to feed on the little girl in me until it was all that I am. A dark and broken puppet laying on the floor screaming for somebody to see me, to love me, to pick me, to chose me. I am almost choking on self pity.

How do you fix lazy? How do fix a lack of joy? How do you fix the pieces of a broken jar that's been scattered all over the world? BPD makes me doubt myself in so many ways. All of my diagnosis make me doubt. They undermine who I am to a certain degree. Everything that I believe to be my reality, or me, becomes fuzzy.

I know all that I need to do to 'fix myself', I have been given all off the tools, I have to some degree been given all the time I need, I've been given Team K and I've been given a family that might not always understand but try to love me anyway and I've been given friend who bless them see pass the crazy. Or at least embrace the crazy.

Yet I don't want to. I don't want to cross the bridge. I don't want to jump off the ledge of despair to find myself floating in happiness. I don't want and I don't need and I don't see the point. This is how I was made. These are the pieces I was given. Let me make my own puzzle, or let me through the pieces away and be a blank picture. Don't make me change and don't ask me to be better and don't pretend that I don't know how to fix this.

I just don't have the will, or the desire or the strength. All those pieces got lost and I was left with doubt, rage, laziness and a slew of other things that make wellness look unappealing. Who would I be then? What would I be then? Other then a shell of what once was. What might have been. This crazy fiery brilliance that engulfs me. I just want it all in. Picture if you will this curvy angry young woman marching up to the pearly gates and demanding a refund. Screaming at God and asking him what he's playing at. What did he want me to do? An if I'm made in his image, was he ever this crazy too?

Wales. Prairies. Seasides in winter. Forest in fall. Rain in summer.

Love me anyway? Love me when I don't want love at all...