The door of creativity has opened for me and there’s no going back-
Writing has become my new obsession-
with it I let out years of my pent up frustration and rage
I don’t even understand having a constant need to write
every single thing
my writer’s block is now a distant memory
as my pen lets out all of my life’s stories of sorrow and joy
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
At 5 am, I woke up and wrote a 4 page poem
about how I wasn’t enough and proceeded to crash my car
and my therapist asked if I wanted to die-
And I was like “nah, I just couldn’t reign my impulsivity in”
at least this time I got control of the car and didn’t fuck
anyone else up
Here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Nothing More
como una tonta doy lo mejor de mi y me conformo con lo más mínimo
para sentir algo de amor
como una tonta me achicó hasta no existir para acomodarme a tu ego
como una tonta me quedo calladita y guardo mis opiniones dentro de mi
para que no me dejes
como una tonta pienso que esta vez tendré una fin feliz
por tanto esfuerzo que hago
como una tonta siempre repito la misma tragedia de amor
sin aprender mi lección
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
The rain falls steadily in August
and I feel a sense of dread, a sense of hopelessness
and I want to dwell on everything I lack,
on everything I’m a failure at-
But I stop myself because while sadness has served as inspiration
and has a place in my mind and life
I can’t allow it to take over my life and consume me
because this is not my whole story
I’m more than being sad and angry
What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Stupid Game
Maldita sea este juego de amor
me siento un peón sin poder, sin control
y no importa lo que hago
siempre pierdo mi cabeza y mi alma
siempre pierdo mi razon y mi corazón
y terminó destrozada y lastimada
por ser terca y estúpida y siempre perder
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My default setting must be sad
because when a wave of happiness comes
all I can feel is anxiety
a stabbing in my gut that makes me nauseous
maybe I’m still getting used to this new feeling
of joy and excitement in my life
Maybe I don’t know how to deal with
finally being healthy and happy
maybe I’m just used to my constant state of misery
Life on the BPD 