Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=149
No puedo vivir sin ti
pero tengo que aprender a olvidarte
Eres parte de mi pasado
Aunque todavía deseo que tu amor fuera mío
Sin ti estare bien
Porque no importa lo debil que me siento
Tengo que parar de pensar en ti
Con estas pocas palabras
A lo mejor ganaré la guerra
De no amarte mas
I wrote this in 2008 in my creative writing class. I actually hated that class because I didn’t fit in. It’s a long story for a blog post at a later time.
I don’t want to be
a style ,a genre
a multicultural read
with scattered Spanish
in my text
that is interpreted
as Chica or Latina lit
-NO!-
I refuse to be a mere category
Or a trend or a fad
When there is a much bigger message
Than the stereotypes
people want to imply
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression.
The sun is shining
Everything is green and bright
And yet winter feels eternal
In my heart
The blackness that is my sadness
Seems to seep and ooze everywhere
Inside of me
Is this what true loneliness feels like?
Will I ever get rid of what feels like
my forever depression?
Or do I just learn to live
with the elephant that
lives on my chest?
That I try desperate not to awake
Writing, exercise, friends, tv-
Everything to keep it calm
But no matter what
The elephant always seems
To wake up
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=4784
Fue el destino cruel
hacerte cruzar la línea
Entre amor y odio
Fuistes una desperdicia de tiempo
Nunca sabras
lo bueno que pudimos ser
tu amor era solo una pantalla de humo
Hasta pensaba que teníamos
Para siempre
Quería creer que tu eras un amor verdadero
pero tu eras otro “lo que sea”
Y yo fui otra falda
No hay nada más que decir
es tiempo de olvidar todo lo que fuimos
o pudimos ser
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression.
I want to write about love
But instead find myself
Writing about depression and loss
Everything feels so vague and fake
I don’t know what or who’s
Real anymore
Is it existential dread
Or a midlife crises
Or a mixture of both?
Living in a world rampant
With comparisons
With the click of a button
Tears at my soul
Thanks to the ridiculous
And never ending standards
Modern society thrusts upon us.
It’s all a constant competition
About who has the best life
Have we all become society’s
Attention whores?
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.
Simple decency is becoming extinct
Manners and politeness is rare
rudeness and sarcasm is the norm
Being kind feels outdated
in this narcissistic society
filled with superfluous and superficial people
Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes
everywhere
There is no escape from this epidemic
of the nothingness
that tries to appear profound
It is a society that blames the victim
“ but what was she wearing?”
or
“He was hanging out with the wrong kids”
It is a society that’s prejudiced against
anyone different
“Go back to where you came from”
“You’ll never belong here”
“People will always remember
how you made them feel”,
Maya Angelou said
Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone
Is how this world makes me feel
I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself
to this world full of shallow feelings
I miss the kind and real people
in this world
It’s rare to find them now
They are almost extinct
I wrote this 2013 about my husband.
Silence, awkward silence is what was left after everything they needed to say was said
It was the same fight over and over again.
Old wounds were brought to the surface and reopened.
She blamed him for derailing her ambitions
and he blamed her for derailing the productive and selfish life he once led.
They both couldn’t see that they were both at fault
for not continuing to push each other to flourish
but instead they fell into a complacent spell
And a pattern of a comfortable
and the fruitless routine of suburban life.
And the years went on and they had nothing to show for it
except debt and wrinkles they both inflicted upon themselves.
And the years went on and all that was left
was regret for her for the things that she didn’t get to experien
I wrote this poem in January of this year for a DBT exercise about being creative.
My love for Joe Goldberg is for real
even if he is a psycho serial killer
he might kill me but won’t abandon me
or break up with me
My love for Joe Goldberg is healthy and lovely
It brings a calm and serenity like no other
My love for Joe Goldberg makes me understand
Myself better
I’m like him, in love with love
My love for Joe Goldberg is the only one I want
for now
I’d rather deal with a fictional crazy Joe
rather than a real life asshole
I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.
Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you
Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks
Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me
Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/10/02/eliza-conquers-heartbreak-poetry-edition-2/
Espero, espero, y espero por tu llamada
para oír que mi soledad fue una pesadilla
Espero, espero, y espero que aparezcas en mi puerta
para decirme que todavía me deseas
Espero por tu carta por correo
diciéndome que me echas de menos
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1792
Eras un sorpresa lleno
de atención y afección
hasta me dejastes rosas en mi tablero
Pensé, por fin, llegó mi príncipe azul
Pero después de un tiempo
Sentí la distancia entre los dos
ya no tenías tiempo para mi
pronto me darás alguna excusa estúpida
porque me tienes que abandonar
y mi corazón quedará en pedazos
no habrá nada más que decir
me dare cuenta
que tu fuiste el mismo cuento
de otro niño confundido
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/13/poetry-old-habits/
Ella era un hábito que no podías romper
aunque te di lo mejor de mi
Aunque te di mi amor
No era suficiente para ti
entonces corriste a los brazos de ella
y cuando me entere
me aleje de ti
Mientras ella se quedó contigo
porque yo no soy una estúpida
yo se mi valor
I wrote this in October of 2007.
Unanswered whys continuously haunt me
Why didn’t we last?
Why did “us” end?
We were the best love story
Where was our happy ending?
Why did our romance suffer an
abrupt and cruel end?
I wrote this in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
Make fun of our accents-
Make fun of our names-
But y’all never have our rich history
Call us feisty, caliente, spicy
Call us fiery, loud, sexy
But y’all will never have the exotic magic
we carry within ourselves
Try to bully us into silence
Try to put us down
with racist and ignorant insults
But y’all will never have
our immigrant work ethic
or ingrained determination
Try to stereotype us-
Try to make us feel less than
Try to kill us-
But y’all never kill our chingona spirit
Life on the BPD 