I am trying to fix the pieces of me that other people broke. I pick myself up every time. I've been so high in my own safe haven. I wanted to numb, ease all the pain. We all deal with it differently-our demons, our pain. We all have different outlets how to ease, release that. It's not for attention. I'm more afraid of being alive than dying, being dead.
I often pretend to have my bubble baths just to drown myself. I would hold my breath and let go. Sometimes I mix drugs and alcohol to numb. To leave my demons, to find my lost soul. It's the only time I feel like myself and not the inhumane part that thinks she knows.
I'm good. My intentions and potential. It's hard to fight a constant battle where you never win. I do good deeds, I try my best to be a good person, friend, sister and daughter. I tip every place I go to whether their service was bad or not. Not because I want to be flashy but I understand pain, I get life. I get people work hard for themselves and for people around them.
They could've just had a bad day and have other things going on that stresses them. If that last ten-twenty dollars I have left on my card or in my pocket helps feed their families or puts a smile on their face then I want to be that person who made a difference in their lives.
I don't understand why all the good I've done is just not recognized. By even me, it's just never enough it seems.