Happy Asian American and Pacific Islander Month! I wrote this poem inspired by my favorite Asian American, my oldest son.
I was young and so stupid
a kid having another kid
but with you I grew up
and learned the meaning of love
you’re everything a mother could want
a wonderful and amazing son
and while I’ll feel some grief
the day you’ll your spread wings
I’ll feel a special kind of pride
as I watch you shine your golden light
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I wonder where all of my money goes
but then I go home to the bottomless pits
that are my kids
and then I go upstairs to my bedroom
where my closet is exploding with clothes
and then I look under bed full of shoes
and then I go downstairs to my record player
and looks at my various vinyls
and we won’t even talk about my newly
acquired furniture from Amazon
now I understand
my money goes to my busy life
and my BPD spending impulsivity
Happy International Workers Day! I wrote this poem a few years ago reflecting on what achieving my American dream looked like at the time.
I am a slave to the severe master
of capitalism and greed
Risking my mental and physical health
to get closer to the haves
New car, new therapist–
Am I closer to the American dream yet?
Capitalism and greed has become my religion
The curse of consumerism some say
The curse of wanting better for me I say
Greed and capitalism–
is the American way
for my American Dream
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Fuck you, fuck me, fuck everyone
Is my mood stabilizer working yet?
and fuck, fuck, fuck my brain chemistry
it makes me so angry and crazy
Sometimes I’d rather feel nothing
than constantly feeling everything
Between my anxiety, depression, bipolar
And bpd
I can’t trust my brain to tell me the difference
between right and wrong
I can’t trust my heart if my feelings are valid
or if it’s inner critic preying on my insecurities
on day likes this I’d rather disappear
because being me gets so exhausting
Describe a risk you took that you do not regret.
I wrote this poem on Valentine’s Day of 2022.
Your false love swallowed me into an ocean of oblivion
and I almost drowned
You consumed my mind with anxious thoughts
of whether or not I mattered to you
And thoughts of death visited me when you ignored me
Feelings of worthlessness and emptiness
threatened my wretched existence over and over again
because of your inconsistent love
But one day, I was enough by myself
I didn’t need your pseudo love
So I’m banishing you to the land of past lovers
who never deserved the magic
of my love
Aquà está la versión en Español:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/05/poesia-cobardia/
you burned our novel of love
because your courage ran out
because you couldn’t fight for us-
even when you told me over and over again
how being with me made you feel alive
how I was different from anyone you ever met
none of that mattered because you chose your wife
because she brings you security
because she’s your peace
because she’s comfortable
because you preferred a static and predictable life with her
Instead of living a life full of excitement and challenges with me
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of wonder, full of splendor
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of sadness,full of sorrow
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of love, full of laughter
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of anger, full of hate
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I feel raw with emotions
It’s like someone has ripped off
the scab of an almost healed heart
and it’s bleeding once again
And while this time
it’s not pulsating with anger and rage
it still hurts
like a small paper cut
you can’t see but it’s still there
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I hide the craziest parts of myself
The parts that get sad,
The parts that get obsessed
The parts that lose hope
I hide the worst parts of myself
the parts that feel empty
The parts that feel numb
The parts that want to die
I hide the craziest and worst parts
of myself
so no one else will leave
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I wish I could be perfect to everyone in my life,
the perfect mom, the perfect coparent, the perfect mistress
but the pressure gets too loud within me
And I need to get away from how I want to be perceived
I’ll never be the perfect anything
I’m never be June Cleaver or the perfect dream girl
I can only be authentically and imperfect me
And maybe me and everyone in my life
need to accept that’s the best I can be
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I told the full moon to listen to my pleas
to lessen my pain
to turn me from victim to victor
I told the full moon to let my mind rest
and stop my intrusive thoughts
that tell me I’m worthless
and not good enough
I told the weary moon to fill me
with self love
instead of self hate
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
My diagnosis doesn’t define me,
It empowers me, it makes sense of my nonsense
I’m not crazy or chaotic or even hard to love
I’m a dream come true wrapped up in complexity
sure at times I feel like a nightmare
But don’t all of us get rough at times
So whoever gets scared and runs away from me
Sorry not sorry, I’m too much
and you’re just not enough
I wrote this in March of 2022 for World Bipolar Day.
I wear the stigma of a bipolar diagnosis and hide this big secret
This secret has been a part of me since my teens
This secret explains my sometimes uncontrollable insanity
This secret at times robs me of my sleep
This secret has taken me on many fun and lustful adventures
This secret makes me write, write, write
so I don’t want to die, die, die
I keep this secret and take medication for it
But one day, I’ll scream out loud my mental health truth
I’m bipolar 2
I’m not enough to ruin your life but just enough to fuck it up
a little at a time
Life on the BPD 