I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
I wash my hands of all my past sins
my wrongs never defined me
It was a toxic narrative I swallowed whole
when I was addicted to suffering
and being a martyr
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
I wash my hands of all my past sins
my wrongs never defined me
It was a toxic narrative I swallowed whole
when I was addicted to suffering
and being a martyr
Life on the BPD 
it’s always fascinating to me the many ways we commit what the religious crowd calls idolatry, that worshipping of things….for me it’s addicted to anxiety and doing everything to alleviate it, everything but the healthy things like exercising and not drinking. Oh well, long way to go….I hope.
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