It’s 5am and I’ve been thinking; it’s Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness Month, and I should write something. But, it doesn’t matter, I’m not important.
I have a Son. I think he’s perfect. He loves me, he trusts me, he knows I’ll always protect him. But it doesn’t matter, I’m not important.
I am a Daughter. I miss my Father who’s proud of the woman I’ve become. I miss his newborn daughter, my newborn Sister. Though I’ve only met her the once I’d do anything for her. I have a beautiful Mother who I worship. A Mother who turned her life upside down to protect her daughter and Grandson. She’s like a Goddess to me. But it doesn’t matter, I’m not important.
I am a Sister. I have my newborn Sister who’s beautiful. I have younger Brother. A strong and sensitive Brother. A man who’s proud to be my Son’s Uncle…
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