Poetry: Pride

I wrote this about the great breakup of 2001. I guess part of the reason why I reacted the way I did was because my ego took a big hit. I mean, I’m already a person that has identity and self esteem issues and each breakup triggers a feeling of worthlessness inside that’s hard to get rid of.

So true

You’ll never know
How much you’ve hurt me so
You’ll never see
The mess you’ve made of me
You’ll never hear
The words “ I love you dear”
You’ll never ever find out
That loving you was what I was about

For I am too damn proud
To admit I was a fool out loud
For I have too much pride
To ever let you see me cry
For I have too much dignity
To ever let you return to me
For I have too much respect
To ever let you turn me into a wreck

Poetry: I Wish I Could

I wish I could’ve spent more time picking up a hobby than writing all of this salty poetry about this dude. LMAO. This is of course another poem inspired by the “great breakup of 2001”.

I wish I could
Forget all of you
And take back the time
Spent loving you
I wish I could make you see
All of the misery you caused me
I wish I could make you feel
My pain that is so extremely real
I wish I could see you hurting
It would be something I would take comfort in
I wish I could just not care
But life isn’t always fair

Poetry: Thank You

I wrote this in 2001 about the great breakup. Looking back at this I almost BUT I’m glad that at the time I was resourceful enough to turn to write poetry instead of doing more self destructive things. My favorite phrase from my 20 year old self is “low scum ho”. Damn, I was salty. LMAO.

Thank you for letting me know
I was with some low scum ho
Thank you for making me see
He was just using you and me
Thank you for making me realize
My lover was just telling me lies
Thank you for driving me into this misery
I really thought he cared for only me
But most of all,
Thank you for taking this burden off me
he didn’t deserve someone as good as me

Poetry: Big Lie

This is yet another poem inspired by the great breakup of 2001. Most likely, I wrote this poem right after it happened as I still raw processing what happened.

Big Lie

I was stubborn
and I got burned
by not believing
that you were deceiving
there were many signs
but my heart refused to resign
it didn’t want to conceive of the notion
that your love was a distortion
now I sit in disbelief
at how wrong you done me
I’m so much better off I know
even though it’s almost impossible to let you go
so it’s forever goodbye
to your twisted love that was a big lie

Poetry: Unfair

This was another poem written in early 2001 about Paul. All I can say is that at least I didn’t go on to write more than a few poems about this breakup. I probably wrote this during the time we were attempting a “pseudo friendship”. I remember getting nauseated and sick every time after I got off the phone with him. This really was the last poem I wrote about him.

honestly how it felt like

Upset, angry, frustrated
Are some of the things I feel
When I come in contact with
Your miserable self

Depressed, miserable, pessimistic
is what I’ve become
You walked away

Happy, gleaming, glowing
is what you are
your miserable piece of scum

It’s unfair,unjust, not right
That fate led me to someone
Who would cause me so much raw pain

What Does Thanksgiving Mean to an Immigrant

When me and my family first immigrated to the U.S in September of 1986; Thanksgiving was a foreign concept to us. We were introduced to Thanksgiving by our extended family members who were seasoned veterans in celebrating this American Holiday. I was 5 when I immigrated to this country so my memories of our first or second Thanksgiving are pretty blurry. 

What I do remember is going to my uncle’s house where my aunts, uncles and numerous cousins would gather. My mother sat with my aunts and grandmother while they shared the latest chisme (aka-gossip) while they cooked and later on served dinner to the kids and the men. Yay for machismo culture <insert sarcasm>. My father and my uncles drank together while they joked around. I remember playing with my cousins or following my sister upstairs with our teenage cousins to the bedroom with the TV to watch music videos with George Michael ,Rick Astley blasting on MTV. Maybe that’s how I acquired my sometimes basic taste in music.

I also remember that since we were away from adults, our cousins took the opportunity to teach me and my sister all of the bad words in English. Haha. Another fond memory that comes to mind is the newest babies being passed around the aunts or the older female cousins. There wasn’t such a thing as asking permission from the parents for their baby unless of course the child is being nursed. I also remember hating the taste of turkey. It tasted like rubber to me.

me and almost all of my cousins circa 1987, I’m in front in the frilly blue dress

There was warmth and laughter in this idyllic setting of Thanksgiving but that’s not the whole picture. There was also unpleasantness. My mom is one of nine children and with that many personalities; there was no way to avoid drama when all of them gathered in one space. There were more than a few petty conflicts between family members on Thanksgiving and other holidays gatherings.

My mother decided after a couple of Thanksgivings it would be better to celebrate Thanksgiving at home by ourselves. So my mother learned how to season and make a turkey and stuffing. Instead of the traditional green bean casserole or sweet potato pie; our sides were Peruvian Potato Salad and Macaroni Salad accompanied by Peruvian Hot Chocolate and Dad’s famous alcoholic Peruvian eggnog. We would watch movies rented from the local video store while we waited for the turkey to be ready. When my dad started getting tipsy, he would start playing Spanish Christmas Carols, Huaynos, and Musica Criolla. It was music that my teenage sister would cringe at and me and my brother would tolerate. I didn’t realize then but I do realize now that my father was in his own way trying to make sure that we wouldn’t forget our roots as we were living this new life in America. My parents tried their best to make sure that our strong Peruvian culture and traditions were not forgotten as we acclimated to the the new Americanized way of living. When dinner was ready, we would sit down at the table. I ,being the youngest and most impressionable by my then Catholic School upbringing, would ask the family to say a prayer and ask them to say something they were thankful for. I think I was seven or eight at the time but I guess my parents thought it was a good tradition to start. And of course, my siblings would get annoyed but they did it.

Despite those first few Thanksgivings when we lived very much under the poverty line; it was still a happy time for us as a family. My parents made sure that Thanksgiving was almost always filled with  warmth, love, and laughter. One could say that  what Thanksgiving meant to my newly arrived immigrant family then  was learning how to incorporate our culture into a new American holiday like Thanksgiving. While my parents understood the importance of assimilation; they still made sure me and my siblings didn’t forget our culture.  Today, I’m filled with gratitude that my parents brought the best of both cultures to Thanksgiving and most holidays in their own unique way. I’ve been able to bring these bicultural traditions to my own family while also making new traditions.

me and my family circa 1986, I’m the one sitting on my mom’s lap

Poetry: Excuses

This was another poem about Paul. The first guy that would break my heart via email. I still don’t understand what was so hard about picking up the phone. Then, again, I might be a hypocrite saying that. Lol.

Where is the lie tho?

I need to be alone right now
was your excuse
Never your intention to hurt me
Was what you said
I’m still in love with her
was what you meant
Meaningless piece of ass
was what I meant to you

Poetry: So You

So I really needed therapy then. Hahaha. This is another salty poem from the great breakup of 2001.This poem is obviously directed at “S” ex-wife who let me know he was cheating on me. Thinking back on it now, I was pretty cruel to the poor girl on the phone. Any anger I had felt should been directed at him and not her. She was in the same situation I was in.

And that dynamite exploded

So you got my man
Thank you for getting him off my hands
So you think he loves you
It’s just a line to fuck you
So you think I still want him
I could care less about such a sorry thing
So you think you are meant to be
You are blind too, I see
So you think he’s the real deal
He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel
So you think you’re lucky
You got yourself another false story
So you think I’m saying this because I’m super pissed
Nah, I’m saying this cause you’re another girl on
his growing list

Poesia: Dime

Escribi este poema en el 2001. Estaba bien enojada y triste. Me sentia abandonada.

Dime que paso
¿Por qué rompiste nuestro lazo de amor?
Dime que hice yo.
Que me dejaste con este llanto
Dime porque te fuiste
Tu no sabes el daño que me hiciste
Dime qué tiene ella
Que ni siquiera dejaste tus huellas
Dime que ya no me amas
Y no te veo jamas
Dime adios para siempre
Y quítame estos amorosos lentes.

Poetry: Sea of Misery

I wrote this in 2001 about my ex Paul after he broke up with me via email after a couple of months dating. This is the last of the poems about Paul. Here is my blog post about my story with him:

https://rejectingstagnationafter.wordpress.com/?p=2052

Well, well, well
Here I am
Drowning in a sea of misery
Because of your selfish and miserable self

Thank you for all
the hell you have put me through

Glad I was used
As meaningless tool
To realize how much
Another meant to you

Nightmare of deceit, betrayal, and lies
was what was behind all of those dreamlike kisses,
Beautiful words and caresses

Poetry: I Thought

Another poem written about the great breakup of 2001. This is a great example of my black and white thinking that comes with having BPD. LMAO.

Me with my nephew in 2001 around the time I wrote this poem

I thought you were kind
I never thought you would destroy after a short time
I thought you loved me
I never thought you would betray me
I thought we were meant to be
I never thought you would cheat on me
I thought I was the only one you cared about
I never thought lying was what you were about
I thought you were my dream come true
I never thought you weren’t being true
I thought I could put my trust in you
I never thought you would make me so blue

Poetry: Dear Brad

I wrote this poem in 2002 about Brad, my former friend who lied to me for about a decade. Before I wrote this poem, we had met up maybe once and fooled around. After that, I tried to make it go back to a platonic friendship but he kept pressuring me for more.

I feel so fucking bad
My dear friend Brad
I know that you were displeased
I never meant for to think I was a tease
But I can no longer be that girl
That doesn’t know her worth
And is okay with being a “good lay”
Sorry for not being able to be your booty call
It’s just that I have learned
That if I want respect
I have to be firm
I hope you’ll forgive me and understand
And we can again be friends and hang