here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: False Fairy Tale
todos creen en nuestra obra de teatro
tienen la impresión que vivimos un cuento de hadas
si solo supieran como me insultas detrás de las puertas cerradas
o como mi almohada se moja con mis lagrimas por tu desprecio
estarían con sus bocas abiertas por la mentira tóxica
que vivimos cada dia
I reflect a lot on who I was, who I am, and who I will be-
and I’ve reach the conclusion that I’m proud of all three versions of me
Constantly fighting my demons no matter how viciously they came after me
Constantly reinventing and rebuilding myself even when the chaotic earthquakes
of life broke me apart
I reflect on the goddess, the beast in me who always refuses to give up
who continues to get and keep going no matter how hard life tries to break me down
1/19/23
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
When I start to lose myself, death calls out to me
like a potential lover
it whispers my name and invades my thoughts
it shows me the many ways to chase it
Drive as fast as you can and lose control(no one has to know)
Accidentally take too many of your prescription meds
(they’ll say you weren’t feeling well that day)
or go for a dramatic effect and cut your wrists
with your razor from work
(oops you mistook your skin for a box)
Death tries to tempt me in many ways
and I count to 10 and scream
this time you won’t win
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Puppet
me tenías como un titere siempre arrastrándome
de acuerdo a lo que tu querías, a lo que tu necesitabas
nunca preguntándome o pensando en lo que necesitaba
y aun así en un santo amén cortaste nuestro cuento de amor
porque aunque yo deje que me me jales a tu antojo
todavía no fui suficiente para ti y perdiste interés en mi
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
trying to avoid self-destruction. I do everything in my coping toolkit
and since nothing works
I just allow myself to feel-allow my inner critic to win for a bit
I can’t keep fighting my negative thoughts –
they need to be heard and acknowledge
my fears who feed my anxiety telling me I’m crazy
and I’ll never be worthy of anyone
and I listen and cry to my bully within
I allow her to keep going until she starts getting tired
and slowly, I shut her out
at least for a while until another depressive spell happens
10/10/22
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I thought that for once I had a healthy kind of love but I was wrong-
Healthy doesn’t carry lies, toning myself down, or accommodate in extremes
Healthy is not running from conflict or avoiding hard conversations
Healthy is not hiding the worst parts of myself because I’m too scared to be alone
Even now, I’m not sure what healthy is-but I didn’t have it with you
here’s the english version of this poem:
todos nos envidian y me tiran indirectas y insultos
porque una generación nos separa,
porque dicen que no soy suficiente para ti
pero ellos no entienden que has sido el primero
en tratarme como un princesa,
el primero en amarme de verdad
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the nuns at Holy Spirit would be proud of me
if they saw me with my self imposed celibacy,
with the solitary confinement I’ve placed myself in
They’d mistake my vow of chastity
as me trying to get closer to the holy trinity
when it’s really me being dramatic
about my BPD recovery
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
poesia: Aqui
walking along Kailua Beach-remembering the young and impulsive girl I once was
always jumping without looking, always falling in love without thinking
until one day, it all caught up with me and I was ostracized and had to leave
and 4 years later I’m back to the place that brought me so much trauma and chaos
and while I could dwell on my past wrongs and misdeeds
today I’m choosing to give grace and forgiveness to my younger self
who didn’t know any better, who was still discovering who she was
Life on the BPD 