I wrote this poem in 2019 when I got into a fight with a friend because he was cruel to one of my friends. After this fight, we didn’t talk for 2 years but we ended up reconnecting in the summer of this year.
I wrote this in April of 2003 about the first Andrew, the guy I fell in love when I was 16. I had gone to Hawaii in April and went to the beach we use to go to and I wrote this poem. Yes, I was still having nostalgia about a short relationship from 5 years ago. One of my BPD traits is being obsessed with some of my romantic partners after the relationship has ended after a long time.
So I take a walk on the beach Where we used to come And make promises of young love But like the waves of this tumultuous ocean Our lives took turbulent and separate turns and our beloved promises Got forgotten somewhere in between And for some reason I keep thinking A new tide will come in and I’ll turn around one day And you’ll take me in With a welcoming embrace And fate will remember us Once again
I wrote this in January of 2003. I’m honestly surprised that after so much disappointment in the dating world, I still had faith. I guess I was still a hopeless romantic at that point.
It’s so hard sometimes to be nice When you’ve cried so many times Over so many sorry ass guys When you are always done wrong You wonder what’s taking so long To find a warm hearted guy Who’ll give you the moon and the sky To find that special man that was written for you in the sand Sometimes you almost want to give up and just suck it up And say “I’m so through” With always being used But you have to have faith That one day you’ll find somebody great And all of these lonely nights Will finally have an end in sight
I wrote this in December of 2002. Towards the end of the year, I was depressed abotu dating and romance. I hated feeling like I was always just used for fun, objectified, and then discarded like trash. .
Now that I know That between us Can me nothing more Than a story of pure lust I feel so dumb And wonder once again If it’s possible to go numb From all of the jerks that are so damn lame You fucking jerks that don’t want to see past Me being a great piece of ass And I ask myself these questions What does it take for someone like me? To find someone that will make me happy To find someone who doesn’t use me just for fun But maybe it’s okay Maybe this is just my fate
I wrote this in 2002 about my former friend Brad. He was the type of “friend” that kept trying to sleep with him and I tried to have boundaries with him. I guess I should have seen the red flags then.
My dear friend Why do you want to stay with me tonight? Is it because you’re lonely? Or is it because you’re sad? Or maybe you just crave the company of my warm body Sorry but I can’t allow it Because I’m selfish And want to keep memories of you pure and free of any sexual intimacy
Poetry is and always has been a big part of my life. Poetry is everywhere . Poetry is in the lyrics I sing, it’s in the love I make, it’s in the beauty of nature, and even in the grief I feel. Since as long as I can remember, I’ve used poetry to process my feelings.
At first, it was me finding comfort in song lyrics when sadness or anxiety hit me even as a young child. I remember being 5 and belting out the heartbreaking lyrics to Juan Gabriel’s song “Querida: or the romantic lyrics Daniela Romo’s “De Mi Enamorate”. When I came to the United States in the 80s, I learned English at school but also through song lyrics. I remember at 6 or 7 singing the lyrics toGeorge Michael’s “Careless Whisper” or Rick Astley’s “Together Forever”. Around 6th grade when I started getting crushes on boys that never gave me the time of day, I would alternate between being angry and singing salty songs like “Someday” by Mariah Carey or singing and crying to Boyz II Men’s “End of The Road”. Yes, I’ve been super dramatic and emotional since I can remember. Haha.
Here is a short playlist of these songs:
And then came the age of the internet when poetry became accessible to me with just a few clicks. I remember being ghosted by this ex when I was 15 and finding this poetry forum with poems full of teenage angst, anger and sadness. It was incredible to me that there were other people feeling how I felt. Yes, some of these poems could be called cringy and corny – but it got me through what I thought was the worst heartbreak I was experiencing at that time. Here are a few of those poems
Around this time my mom noticed my new fondness for poetry and introduced me to the love poetry of the Spanish poet Gustavo Becquer and I swooned. This is my favorite poem of his:
Eventually I started writing poetry to process my feelings and this is one of the first ones I wrote inspired by what else-a breakup. Haha.
In some of my blog posts, I’ve said that I shouldn’t have written poems about so and so and should have gone to therapy; and while that may be true, poetry was also a type of therapy for me. Whether it was writing salty and angry poems or processing feelings of infatuation or existential dread; poetry has been one of the few constants in my life
In my 20s, I discovered Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” and Sylvia’s Plath “To a Jilted Lover” and my love for poetry became even stronger.
At that time, I also found the courage to join the literary club in college and start reading my own poetry in front of my peers. I call it brave because poets that share their poems, whether it be through open mic night, social media, a blog, or a book are sharing an intimate part of themselves with the world. They’re sharing their vulnerability, their grief, and sometimes even their most private thoughts. It’s brave to do this in a world that shouts at you to “fuck feelings “or tries to tone down the many emotions we as humans feel as we go through this beautiful and complicated thing called life. Sharing your poetry can feeling like opening and inviting the world to your innermost and private thoughts.
For me, poetry is part of how I process life. Sharing my poetry through my blog or at open mic sometimes feels like the last step in healing from trauma. I told my therapist that sharing my poetry through my blog feels cathartic because afterwards it feels like I’m completely done with revisiting a traumatic event. I’ve also received comments from people that they’re related to my poetry because of something similar they’ve felt or have gone through and that’s the other reason I share my poetry. IF even one person can relate to any of my poems and it makes them not feel so alone then I’ve done my job as a poet.
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way thatthey almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow.
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John. Estaba tan decepcionada de el. Fue difícil dejarlo ir.
Yo tenía la esperanza Que tu eras el hombre Que yo tanto esperaba Pero después de ver la fea manera que me trataste Ahora me doy cuenta En realidad los que tu piensas Que no mas fui Cualquier otra para ti No fui algo especial Nunca te iba a importar Y ahora me quedo sola Y estas lagrimas que se convierten en un mar
I wrote this poem in December of 2002 cause well dating sucks and it’s still timely. Haha.
I hate playing this stupid game Called dating Trying to decide Which move to make So you can have him at checkmate It’s no longer about falling in love Or even real feelings But it’s about winning So if sit here wanting to hear hisvoice I don’t dare give in to this yearning To want to call him Because then they’ll almost be winning
Escribi este poema en Diciembre del 2002 porque estaba amarga y triste que los hombres siempre me tratan como un juguete.
Los hombres me miran y yo sé que ven Nada más que ese algo pasajero Que nunca de amor se atrevería hablar Pero ya me canse De la manera que me ven Porque yo soy más que un cuerpo en sus camas Porque yo tengo sentimientos Y quisiera algo verdadero a mi lado Porque ya no quiero ser Nada más que una de sus muchas amantes Porque algún día quisiera tener Un verdadera hombre Que me vea mas allá Que una de sus muchas faldas Y va a querer saber quien soy en realidad Para empezar a amarme!
To tell the story of the first Andrew, I need to first tell the story of Matt. Matt is my son’s oldest bio dad. Matt has been one of my muses for a lot of my poetry. Matt has also been one of the reasons for why abandonment is such a trigger for me. I won’t say that Matt ruined my life because my son is wonderful and amazing. Matt is just one of the reasons my life has been well, so complicated. I met Matt in an AOL Chat Room when I was 16 and he was 21 in November of 1997. When we first started talking, he pretended to be 19 and going to the University of Hawaii. He was charming and I got this ego boost that an older guy would take an interest in me. Eventually we decided to meet up after a couple of weeks of chatting. I had just started working at Sears so I got the idea that we could meet there after my shift. Well, we met after my shift and he showed up in his friend’s car with his friend. 16 year old naïve me got into his car and then he told me the real truth about himself. The truth was that he was 21 years old and in the Army. He lied to me because he didn’t think I’d talk to him if I knew the truth. I didn’t know what to say. I mean yes, he sounded sketchy but I was stuck in the car with no way out. He then told me that we were going to a friend’s party on base and to lie about my age and say I was 18. Looking back now, I’m lucky that I didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. We made it to this party and it’s awkward as fuck for me cause I’m awkward as fuck and I didn’t imagine that after 2 weeks of buildup conversation with Matt, our first date was going to be this-a party full of strangers who are drunk, happy ,loud as fuck singing karaoke. I’m miserable but try to my mask my social anxiety by a lot of smiling and nodding . After a few minutes, Matt notices my discomfort and offers to get me a drink. He comes back with a Heineken . I’m still trying to impress Matt and I tell him it’s my favorite drink and try to drink it as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to . So he takes me to the back and we make out. I try to put the brakes on what’s happening. He tells me that I won’t hear from him if I don’t put out. In my head, I still want Matt to like me and suddenly we’re in the back seat of his friend’s car with him hooking up. Him and his friend take me home afterwards.
I saw him again the following weekend and he sneaks me into the barracks where I spend the night. I won’t go into specifics but we’ll just say we had amazing chemistry and it was a night to remember.
Here are a couple of poems I wrote about that night:
However, I’m not one to stay down for long and I decided to meet another guy I had been talking to online (AOL Chat room of course) for a few months. His name was Jeremy and he was 16 . We had grown close in our online friendship but I had never seen a picture of him. Our friendship was nice, he made me laugh and constantly complimented me. He asked me to go with him to his school’s military ball that would take place in Mid December. I agreed to go. He picked me up from my house and when I saw him, he wasn’t who I pictured him to be and well there was zero chemistry but now I was stuck in this awkward situation with this dude. Idk why I kept getting myself into these situations aside from the fact that I was 16 and really didn’t make the best choices (lol). So we get to the dance and he introduces me to his friends, I don’t remember the names of all of them but I remember meeting Andrew, his best friend. I call him the first Andrew because there was a second Andrew that comes many, many years later in my story of love and lust. Anyways, I’m with Jeremy most of the night but he takes a break to go to the bathroom and well I start talking to Andrew and I don’t mean to sound corny but the attraction and chemistry between both of us was electric that night. I don’t want to say it was love at first sight but it sure felt like it and we exchanged phone numbers. I remember even dancing with Andrew and feeling this strange feeling of magic. If this had been a telenovela where the main character meets her soulmate, there would be some sappy Spanish love song playing . Me and Andrew, well, we had the Sugar Ray song “Fly”…oh I miss the 90’s sometimes. Lol.
After the dance me and Andrew connected through the phone and AIM (short for AOL Instant Messenger). As we talked more, we realized there was definitely a connection there and we wanted to explore it and we went on a first date and it was absolutely wonderful filled with these sparks inside of me that felt like electricity. And he liked me too. A lot. He wasn’t like the other guys I had dated before. I mean guys like Matt were attractive and all but Andrew felt like something special and unique to me. He lived on the other side of the island by the beach so we had romantic dates at the beach and of course the mall because we were teenagers. The bus ride to see him was about an hour and hour each way but I didn’t care. To me, he was worth it. And he got lost in me too. It was strange and felt absolutely like a movie kind of love. The feeling was really mutual this time and while we lived far away, somehow we made it work for 4 months.
There were of course a few wrinkles in our storybook romance. Jeremy -his best friend and my close friend had “fallen in love” with me after meeting me in person. This meant that we kept our budding romance a secret from him. It was rough and we both felt so guilty. Eventually I had to tell Jeremy that I was dating Andrew when Jeremy professed his love to me one night. After I told him the news, Jeremy didn’t take it well at all and said that he was holding a knife to his wrist and he was going to take his life because I didn’t love him. I don’t know how but I talked him down from the brink. It was really hard on me that I had caused him so much pain and I felt absolutely horrible and responsible for his pain. I honestly don’t know why Jeremy still kept being my friend after this and it was so awkward but somehow our friendship made it. The other wrinkle was that I was missing something very important that month-my period. I was somehow able to get in touch with Matt and tell him my dilemma and he told me he would give me the money to take care of it if I was pregnant. I was in this weird place of shock and awe. My parents had made sure to shelter me so much from the world that things like abortion or teen pregnancy weren’t really talked about. In fact, my Catholic parents were very much about abstinence education only. I also felt awkward about going to the drug store to get a pregnancy test at 16. A few days after talking to Matt, I started spotting and thought it was my period. I had also heard that girls have irregular periods sometimes so I convinced myself of that I. I was adamant that NOTHING would interfere with my love story with Andrew.
From January to April, my romance with Andrew grew and it was filled with so much intensity, chemistry, and connection. He was cute and so intelligent and not at all like the other shallow guys I had dated before. We would have these 2 or 3 hour long really deep and profound conversations. We couldn’t get enough of each other but I was way more obsessed. Around this time, I also noticed I was gaining weight so I figured I would start exercising and really limit my calorie intake (hello almost eating disorder). Anyways, I got so obsessed with him, I started skipping school on a weekly basis to “surprise” him at school when he got out. Yes, I took an hour and a half long bus ride for “love”. And people asked me why I relate to Joe Goldberg-lol.
I fell so deeply “in love” with Andrew, all I thought about was him and only him. It was crazy but I was also a pregnant teenager who was denying her pregnancy to herself at the time. Andrew was also really into me as well, He was so into me that his grades started slipping bad really bad. This was bad for him considering the fact that he really needed a JROTC scholarship for college. He gave a shit about his future while I didn’t give a shit about mine. So one day in April he called me and told me he had to break up with him because his mother said I was too much of a distraction and blamed me that his grades had slipped. I was shocked but didn’t cry and told him okay. We didn’t do the whole “let’s be friend bs” cause we both knew how horrible it would be for both of us. Even at 16 and 17, we both knew better. Jeremy told me that it was really hard on him and he was upset for a while. And I, I fell apart. I’m not sure if I had BPD at the time this happened but I was so deeply hurt, I wanted to die and stayed up at night and wondered which way would be the least painful to take my life. I also remember crying on my bedroom floor playing Mariah Carey’s “Love Takes Time” or Luis Miguel’s “Historia de Un Amor” on repeat.
I was borderline almost depressed catatonic when it happened. Usually, after a breakup, I would find a way to being strong and find anger within and be like “fuck this dude” and give myself a pep talk of “I’m a strong Peruvian Woman” , I’m going to write some angry ass poetry or stories ; this time it didn’t happen. The first Andrew has been one of my few exes to escape my scathing and salty angry poetry. It could have been a combo of the pregnancy and teenage hormones and the fact that I felt like I had lost the love of my life. I just felt absolutely in the pits of despair and devastation and my friends and parents tried their best to take me out of it. Nothing worked though. I still went to school but I was a zombie. I functioned enough so that my parents and friends didn’t press me too hard about how “I needed to get over it and move on”.
The one thing that brought me out of my almost catatonic depression were the flutters in my stomach I was starting to feel. That is, however, a story for another time.
To make a long story short, I did manage to contact Andrew a few years later after I found out that Jeremy had told him about my pregnancy and we did make amends. He forgave me for lying to him and I forgave him for breaking my heart. I was still kind of slightly Joe Goldberg obsessed with him years later and looked him up every now and then when the nostalgia hit. For some reason, years later, he stayed on my pedestal for a while. One day, I finally realized he was just a 16 year old dude in love who knew how to treat me with the love and respect I needed at the time. He was the first guy that I really felt deep and intense feelings for. He was great but he was just another chapter in my book of lust and love.
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de todos los pinches canallas que me han roto el corazón.
Adiós es todo lo que se puede decir Cuando tu ser mas querido te hace sufrir Aguantarte el derrame de lágrimas Es lo que tienes que hacer Para que el vea Que eres una mujer fuerte Callarte los gritos dolorosos Y no le mirés a sus ojos Y sonreír por más doloroso que sea Para salvar alguna parte de tu dignidad Y para que el vea Que no logró su meta De hacer lo que quiera contigo Que para él no más fuiste un juego Y después cuando él se arrepiente De ser un desgraciado ser Tu le puedes decir por fin Nunca más te deseo cerca de mi
I wrote this in December of 2002 and it wasn’t inspired by any breakups, it might have been inspired by a movie I watched or a book I read.
I woke up one day To see that you had gone away All you left was a note You could no longer cope With our love mess You had tried your very best To be the man I wanted you to be The one who only cared for me You had only pretended to be true And now you say the time has come You’re sorry it took so damn long All that is left is goodbye You tell me to not even ask why You wish me the best in life One day I’ll make a great wife And with your signature you sign off I hope that someday you’ll find true love