Mental-ness

Lately I have been thinking about the way I am. I know we all have
self-esteem issues, even the most beautiful people have insecurities I
am sure. But I mean I don't really have any at all [self-esteem that is]. Which is kind of
bad considering I should. I guess the stereotypes don't help much, and
the pressure to conform is INTENSE. I don't find it fair that both girls and boys have to look a certain way. Girls have to be skinny with big boobs and a tight butt, where as guys either scrawny or built. I find there are harsher ones placed on
us girls but that's just my opinion. Another thing that comes along with my low self-esteem is my inability to like myself for who I am.

Some times it feels as though I space out and hear myself talking
but saying things I don't think I would say, and then I get confused
and freak out. I sound like some sort of crazy trying to figure out the
right words and things. I think I am crazy sometimes. To be honest I
was reading up on this article the other day, [BPD] and well, I had a suspicious that I may or may not have some sort of mental condition and I was thinking it may be Boarder Line Personality Disorder. Some of the things that jumped out at me were 'pervasive instability in moods, interpersonal relationships, self-image, and behavior' as well as 'intense bouts of anger, depression, and anxiety that may last only hours, or at most a day. These may be associated with episodes of impulsive aggression, self-injury, and drug or alcohol abuse. Distortions in cognition and sense of self can lead to frequent changes in long-term goals, career plans, jobs, friendships, gender identity, and values". Now I am not saying that i suffer from these like, INTENSELY, but I do have these 'mood swings' if you will. I am also a tad bit of a hypochondriac.

See I kinda want to talk to someone about this but I am to scared to, cause what if they tell my parents about my 'habit' I really don't want to be under strict supervision again. [They caught me in the act once] So I am kind of at a cross roads. Blehh haha. So strange that I write about this in a Myspace blog haha..

Morgan.

[taken from my Myspace page]

Put it Down

Being unable to stop what is hazardous to me,
has proved to be quite the challenge.
Rather than putting down the blade,
I hide it away,
keep it safe until I need it.
This won't solve anything.
Yet even though I know this, it seems to not sway my position.
It's quite a puzzling predicament, and one I would rather not be apart of.
Perhaps it is my fault that I don't stop,
well actually more like I "can't" stop, but I need to figure out that answer soon
cause I fear with each new scar, comes a new bump, in the trust and support my love has in me.
I feel as though each time I cut myself, I cut him,
so why is it that I can't force myself to stop?
How does this make any sense!?
Help...
I have thought about help and getting it, but love has told me so many stories and such,
That I don't know if I want to get it.
I fear perhaps I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder.
Some of the symptoms certainly jumped out at me.
Maybe I really am a crazy mental basket case!?
ahhhhrg why why why why WHY!?
I'm so scared and I don't want to sit here and do nothing in case it really is a mental problem!
RAWR I don't know what to do...
I want to get help but I don't want to be stalked by social workers, I mean and if my parents found out. holy shit I don't even want to think about that. I mean my mom IS a freaking social worker!
SHIT ahh, I don't know what to do and I just don't want to jeopardize my relationship again!
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhg!


Morgan.

Growing

We're growing.
We blink, and the day is done.
We look at ourselves in the mirror.
We have changed.
Breasts and makeup,
acne and style.
We all change.
Wrestling on the floor,
turns to wrestling under the covers.
breathing out the hot air on a cold day, becomes breathing out smoke on a warm day.
Drinking juice in the park progresses into,
drinking alcohol on the bench.
We've lost our innocence, that is if we had any.
Some have changed so much, they can't recognize themselves.
Why did this happen?
The boy you spent all your time with, talking and laughing,
now becomes the boy you have "flings" with.
Meeting new people was fun, easy and safe. No one cared what you looked like.
Now it's difficult and perceptions are often blurred.
Socializing has become a harsh and troubling event.
Petty conversation, underlined with hidden judgments.
Boys and girls,
hormones and testosterone a deadly cocktail.
A supposed "harmless" conversation with a new friend of the opposite sex,
turns into a struggle for escape while his clammy, dirty hand
slips under your shirt as he tells you to hush.
Laughs turn into pleads and screams of "no"s and "please don't" s.
Gossip and bad mouthing have become the universal language of the teenage girl.
Poisoned words candy coated for the consumer's pleasure.
A hidden disaster.
How did this happen,
things seem so much, brighter when we were young.
Things seemed enjoyable and pleasant.
How can they have turned out this way?
It's not fair.
The new chapter of the future, if looked at closely,
is littered with spelling mistakes and bad grammar.
We have changed,
and it seems as though, things will continue to.
So I suppose we must learn how to resocialize ourselves to cope with each new day, for;
The future. The past.
The present.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
{Fuck I can't write anymore...>_<"}

01/05/09

You don't believe me,
you won't listen to me.
How can I tell you things when you won't listen.
It's my fault that you feel this way,
I was the one that made you feel sad,
I was the one that abused you.
I don't know what to do any more.
You accused me over something stupid, said I was looking at you but I chose to talk with my friends and leave you sitting there waiting.
You said I was neglecting you on purpose.
I tried to tell you that I really didn't see you but you just kept yelling.
Screaming.
You swore at me over and over and over,
I wanted to cry but i couldn't so I laughed.
You thought I was doing it just to spite you.
You think I do everything in spite.
You say I am miserable, so very miserable,
and that I go out of my way just to be miserable.
You say I search for it, I look in every nook and cranny until I find some small, dimeer, trace of misery.
You told me that I make it hard for you to be a parent.
You say I make it incredibly hard.
You tell me I treat you both horribly, and that I have no respect at all.
You tell me my mother feels the same.
You say I should move out.
So I reply "Fine"
You scream at me some more, until I try to say something but all that comes out of my mouth are laughs of confusion.
You jerk the car over onto the side walk,
and you shout at me,
you scream "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR, GET THE FUCK OUT!"
So I do, and then those tears which waited close together, confused about what they should do,
finally break out and in a uncontrollable river.
I walk slow at first, everything feels so heavy and weighed down.
I wheeze and huff, trying to breath,
but it's hard.
You turned the car around and pulled up behind me
"Get in the car!"
you shouted,
"MORGAN GET IN THE FUCKIN' CAR!"
At this point I really just wanted to be alone.
Thoughts of pulling my cold steel friend out and running it along my arm
flash through my mind at a rapid pace.
I wanted to be alone.
I wanted to go somewhere quiet and cry my eyes out.
"FUCK YOU"
I screamed
"FUCK YOU, NO!"
your tires spun on the ice as you pulled up in front of me.
"Get in the FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW!"
I don't want to fight you.
I get in the car, my eyes probably puffy and red, smeared with the black from both the mascara and eyeliner.
You begin to lecture again.
I can hear you, but I block it all out,
for at this point I can't take it.
I know everything you said.
I took it all in after.
You accuse me of writing poems about you, just so I can guilt trip you.
You say I use them to help me manipulate you.
You tell me about how much you love me.
You drop me off at work and say
"I will always love you more than anything in the world"
Now who's the guilt tripper?
I run into work and break down in the back room.
I cry for at least 10 minutes until my boss walks in,
and thank God he came in.
He tried to help but how can you when your employee has problems with her family.
How can you when she tries to explain the problem but she doesn't even know what to say.
What do you say to a girl balling her eyes out, who says "I hate my self!"
What do you say?
After he left, i had no choice.
I grabbed my lifeline,
shut the door to the washroom,
let is bit me hard.
Deeper than ever before.
It bled, and I did it again and again.
It felt good.
I needed to do it.
I hated who I was,
I wanted to hurt myself so bad.
I wanted to cut to punish myself for being the person that hurts people.


YOU DUMB ASS SON OF A BITCH!
How dare you say I use my poetry for guilting you into being sad!
How dare you! I write to feel better, I write what I feel.
I know we have our augments ok!
I AM A FUCKING TEENAGER AFTER ALL!
A GODDAMN TEENAGER!
I can understand that I can be a bitch sometimes,
Your telling me.
I know this already, ok!
I scare myself sometimes.
I don't know where these moods and feelings come from.
I am scared I have a disorder.
BPD or Borderline Personality Disorder.
You don't know how many nights I stay up,
just thinking about the things I did that day, or the way I acted, and try to figure out why,
and I can't!
Do you know how scary it is,
to feel like you are watching yourself act and say things, and you have no idea why you are saying them!?
It's terrifying.
Do you know what it's like to go through these days feeling like our ugly and people see that.
Do you know what it is like to hate yourself because you feel like a fuck up.
I don't really think you know what that is like.
You told me that it feels like I don't love you or want to love you any more.
To be honest I don't know what I want to do!
When we were there, sitting in that car,
I wanted to jump out in front of a car, just so you won't have to deal with this any more.
It's hard enough going though some days feeling fine, then some where everything goes wrong and all I want to do I cut it out of me.
Do you know what it feels like to cut yourself then have to tell the one that loves you most that you did it again, and then know how much he worries about you.
Do you know what it's like to know how helpless he feels, and know it's because of you?
It's hard to go through days when you feel like killing yourself because of who you are.
Fuck you won't ever know how hard that is.

I don't want to be that daughter that makes it hard for you to be a parent.
I don't want to fight with you, and I never do.
It happens and I am sorry.
Yet it's not just me and maybe if you stopped fucking mom when you are divorced, it will be much better. { I presume that is what you are doing }
Stop sleeping at our house when you have some one else.
Is that not just fucking wrong!?
No one understands that! { yes I have told other people about it }

Just go see that whore of yours.
Go tell her how hard your fucking life is,
and how much your daughter "abuses" you and "manipulates" you into driving her places.
Tell her how much you wish I was different.

I don't know why things have always been this way,
and I don't know how to fix them,
but as far as I am concerned, for now, I don't really want to...

Morgan.