Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
Poesia: La Misma Historia
I’d rather be berated and hated
than ignored and treated with indifference
call me a lunatic, call me a bitch
call me the worst mistake of your life
JUST CALL ME ANYTHING!
Then I’ll know I won
because I’ve imprinted on your memory
aquí esta la versión en español:
Poesía: Decepción
nothing ever happens to my exes after they leave-
they don’t blink, they don’t flinch, they don’t need therapy
and I’m so incredibly jealous of that!
They’re carefree and without any feelings-
Absconding without blame or any responsibility
While I’m left in a spiral of shame and regret
and many times losing my sanity
How many more mental breakdowns will I have before accepting=
love is always a dangerous game for me-
no matter how casual and detached I try to be
my nature will always be to give, give, give
Until I lose parts of my identity
Maybe this is how I keep attracting narcissists?
no, Susan or Ken, your ex wasn’t a narcissist, they just got tired of your bullshit. honestly, though, we need to stop arm chair diagnosing people with this word. it’s turning into a “catch all term” to make us feel better about ourselves when a relationship ends or we have a fallout with someone. I’ve been accused of it and I’ve accused others of it and it just made things worse. So, yeah, let’s stop using the word “narcissist” unless we are a legit mental health professional or we know for sure that person has been diagnosed as a narcissist.
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the facade of equality is cloaked in good intentions and lovely words-
and while laws have been passed to prevent discrimination
and to try to level the game of success,
it’s all a sham, it’s all a con
we still live in a world where the color of your skin and social status
and gender determine your prosperity
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Falsa Esperanza
you were my hope in love restored
everything I had dreamed of
everything I had wished for
and it was nice for a while-
getting lost in our love
thinking it was safe,
thinking it could be my permanent sanctuary
until one day like clockwork
you changed your mind and decided I wasn’t enough
and I was left wondering “what the fuck is wrong with me?”
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
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Adios
I keep my screams and cries inside for the sake of my pride
I’ll pretend I’m happy and fine
even as waves of infinite grief wash over me
and I’m drenched in humiliation and shame
for allowing myself to become the pawn in a game
played by another guy who’s only looking for a temporary distraction
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
Poesia: Algo Pasajero
I’m more than a temporary destination for men to lay their love in
I will no longer lay down and play princess
and adjust and accommodate to their egos and needs
when they can never make me a priority
when they can never acknowledge my humanity
from now I won’t allow anyone near me
unless they show themselves worthy of my time and energy
Aqui esta la version en español :
Poesia: Demaciado Sencilla
you told me I’m not wife material
so you dropped me like I was nothing
but not before you took me to your bed a few times
but not before filling my head with the illusion
that you wanted a future with me-
Are you sick in the head?
Is this how you always operate?
Finding an insecure girl to get your primal needs met
and later on dropping them like a bad habit
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I was trapped in a mental cage of misery
I didn’t know how to rewrite my story
and while poetry helped me
it was with grief and therapy I finally felt free
I learned to let go of old resentments and grudges
and healed old emotional bruises
and while I still have minor annoyances
my anger and angst no longer control me
I wrote this poem in 2019.
Our relationship slowly wilted
Too many broken promises
Too many sacrifices on my part
I gave you my youth and you two children
and you couldn’t give me an ounce of affection
I tried to melt your icy cold wall and you denied my warmth
And I tried over and over again to save us!
But how do you save something that continues to die?
Date nights, long conversations,accommodating to your needs continuously,
and marriage counseling
but all of it was useless and completely pointless
So I gave up and let our marriage fall into a coffin
along with your broken promises to change
I even kept the coffin open with a slight hope we could fix us
But one day I got tired of waiting, waiting and waiting
and I decided to close the coffin and nail it shut-
It was time to bury our lackluster love
Life on the BPD 