When I was a teen I was the girl guys hid They were embarrassed to be seen with me and now in my middle age men want to brag about fucking me even if it was that one time and while I’m not ashamed of my sexuality I still hate this misogynist reality of how my body and my sexual intensity makes me fodder for men’s sexism maybe it’s toxic masculinity Or maybe men can’t see past my powerful sexual energy They need to remember I’m also crazy and when they relegate me to a sexual object they become my subject for my salty poetry
these must be the new dark age of my life where I can’t find my life’s purpose, where I cry because I don’t think I’ll ever be loved where the sleeping pills in my drawers are tempting me to end my misery
It could be worse they say because I could be dead my children left without a mother my parents left without a daughter My friends and coworkers left without entertainment of my emotional and dramatic hijinks And I left without fulfilling my potential or life purpose It could be worse they say because with me gone Who else will give you my special brand of crazy?
I’m a real monster when I can’t see past my anger I want to burn you down I want you to drown And at times I can control my impulsivity and revenge But sometimes my anger can’t be caged And I try to keep it in between the pages of my journal and notebooks but the resentment becomes too loud to let you off the hook So a passive aggressive status post happens with an intent to insult and offend I want you to feel my anger all the way revealed Maybe one day I’ll get much better not allowing my anger to turn me into a monster
I want to hold on to what’s real and not be stuck in a daydream I want to live in my present And not stuck in my past I want to be over you and not be triggered by the memory of you
another 4 years of trump and who knows if America will still be standing if anyone who’s not male or white will still have rights another 4 years of trump and I see a future of fascism and dictatorship and U.S born citizens being sent back to their parent’s country of origin another 4 years of trump and I’m not sure I’ll still be alive or at very least still maintain a semblance of my sanity
Home is my son’s laughter after a hard day home is the sun on my skin while I run home is peace and Tranquility after years of Chaos home is letting other see the real me and not some fake personality
it wasn’t until today I realized how ordinary you really were It wasn’t that you were ever that interesting or special It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses refusing to see past what was in front of me Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies of who you could be when really you were, the most ordinary of men not malicious, not especially intelligent not really helpful just kind of existing without any spark without anything that would make me look twice at you now
Pretty gets me in a man’s door but also makes me feel like a whore I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean men love me when I’m pretty and submissive but not when I’m pretty reclusive men want the pretty girl who’s fun but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt pretty gets me notice but also gets me dismissed
with this new strain of COVID, all of my cell are mutating and regenerating and making be at a standstill where I have time to sit and think about what I really want, about whether or not I’m doing enough to live a life worth living or if I’m just existing in a routine of monotony that leads nowhere in a routine I’ve deluded myself into calling healthy but really it’s far from it
the day I was told I needed a total hip replacement surgery
my body has betrayed me one last time and this time I’ll take charge of it and control what’s happening this time I’m old enough to stop this nonsense and kill what’s causing me the most insufferable pain and I’ll replace the hip that’s the vane of my existence, the diseased hip that must be sacrificed for me to stop the curse of martyrdom passed down for generations
WordPress Prompt: What are you most worried about for the future?
Things I’m currently crashing out about:
Finances-I’m in a financial hole due to loss income and medical debt. I’ve been in denial for such a long time about it but today I didn’t even have enough to cover my rent so I had to ask my other roommates for their share and one of them will move out soon. It’s been keeping up at night but I know I’ll dig myself out as I have done before. It just fucking sucks for now and makes me feel like a complete and utter failure. But there’s no time for me to lament and whine, I need to take action now and I’m doing it. I have to have blind faith that I’ll be fine and there is a light at the end of these really dark economic times.
CPTSD symptoms: Triggered cause of the heat, the stress and this time of the year. I’m managing not to have a total and complete emotional relapse by exercising, drinking my water and minding my business, watching movies with really pretty people in them, and acknowledging what’s happening by talking to close friends and writing. I honestly feel like if someone came up to me and gave me $10000, my CPTSD would completely disappear but that’s not real life. I’m trying to do better because last week I was a complete bitch to one of my friends and she didn’t deserve it. I apologized and owned up to it but damn I still feel bad about it.
And of course, existing while Latina in this country. With all the shit that’s happening I worry about my family members and myself. I try to take it day by day but the anxiety gets at 100 when I see a new headline pop up especially the latest one about stripping citizenship from U.S citizens. I have to laugh because one) I’m too medicated to cry and two) it’s really not worth getting so upset about something out of my control.
I haven’t done a WordPress Prompt in a minute and this one just gnawed and gnawed at me and I was like, hell, maybe I’ll feel better screaming into the void especially now that my nature spot is ruined. R.I.P my special creek. I hope that the next time I answer a WordPress prompt, it’s something where I answer the question and I’m a lot happier. I hope that in three months, I’ll look back on this post and I can see that I’ve made a lot of progress and I feel more balanced and hopeful and I can say, well, I made it and I’m more than okay. IF not, at least I will have written a lot more poems and stories.
denial sits in the pit of my gut but I disguise it with a smile and trips to the zoo act like domestic bliss is heaven when inside I’m trembling with rage
as long as there is breath left in me I will try try to be a good mom to my kids try to tell my story try to love everyone the best way i can try to find understanding for what happened to me try to find joy in the most ordinary of moments try to dance my way through my most depressive episodes try find my inner peace and calm
hold onto hope, don’t let go one day you’ll laugh about this one day you’ll be okay hold onto hope, don’t let go Remember all of the times you’ve been strong Remember all of the times you put one foot in front of the other hold onto hope, don’t let go your story is still being written you’re still in time to change your narrative
Life on the BPD 