B.D or B.P.D

I feel high, jumpy and touchy. My mind races with millions of thoughts, some gentle, many violent. The consequences of my actions don’t bother me, I did what I did and I’ll do it again.

No care, no care in the world. No care, no care.

I take every opportunity to dance with anyone. I sit on fences and don’t commit. I try different things, different risks just to see the outcome. I’m a broken instrument, unable to be fixed.

No care, no care in the world. No care, no care.

I’m done, tired and slowed down. I feel no pleasure and the things I like seem dull. The number on the scale begins to drop, but I still look heavy. The only place I would like to be is in my bed, laying on my tear-stained pillow. Suddenly, self-slaughter doesn’t seem so bad.

I don’t care, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care, I don’t care.

I’m a regret. My demons talking to me again. I can’t sit in a single class without thinking about ways I could end it right there and then. The thoughts and headaches increase, I can’t be alone.

I don’t care, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care, I don’t care.

I’m hostile, violent and resentful. If you even look at me the wrong way, I will snap. I daydream about taking a hammer and bashing someone’s head in with it. It’s obvious I don’t want to be bothered.

Why, Why should I care? Why, why should I?

I’m unstable, I think about the terror I could raise, how I could ruin everything in a matter of seconds. My blood is boiling, my mind is about to explode. I could kill someone right now. Why? Because I do as I please.

Why, why should I care? Why, why should I?

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