I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I’m starting to radically accept someone like me
will always be judged differently from my peers
it doesn’t matter how many degrees I have-
how much I code switch to fit in-
it will never be enough to be truly accepted
so I’ll smile and nod while they complain
about ivory tower problems
while I roll my eyes inside my mind-
man, I really wish I had your problems Susan
but I got to go to my second job now
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the river of my love for you dried and at first I cried
but then it felt like freedom, it felt like happiness
to no longer obsess over someone who treated me like shit
to feel nothing for someone who caused me a world of pain
over and over again
Does this mean I finally learned my worth?
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I give you a yard, and you give me an inch-
it’s a game of back and forth nonsense
one where I respect your unspoken boundaries
and need for space
until one day the push back from you
pulled back into a dark place I haven’t been in a while
a place where my confidence breaks, a place where I start to question my worth
a place when my sense of self breaks once again
and I know right there, and then, it’s better to give up
whatever this was
I’ve outgrown men who send me mixed signals
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
were we the bonnie and clyde of toxic relationships ?
you setting up and detonating love bombs in my heart
and making me explode in rage every time you left
and me encouraging you with every reunion
because I loved you, because I didn’t want to be alone
so I went along with your emotional crimes every time
Until one day, I learned my worth
and blocked your energy from my universe
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
every time I drive somewhere new I’m beyond terrified
doubts about driving skills cloud me and I want to break down
and panic in the middle of traffic
but I push through my fears, my insecurities, and keep driving
I can’t be weighed down by who I used to be
A woman reliant on the transportation of others
A woman fearful of living a full life
that is my old story
and it’s not that I hate that version of myself
I just refused to hold myself hostage by my past
which tries to hold me back from
being the independent woman I was always meant to be
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
In the isolation of my solitude
I try to find grace and compassion
that’s evading me
I try to ground myself in my writing
and music
because I don’t want to talk about it
and I’d rather let out my tears
in the comfort of my bedroom
or on my notebooks
because last time I let someone in
on my crazy, they left
they always leave me
Who are your favorite artists?
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
in the juxtaposition of the karens and working class
I find sympathy for both
it’s hard to explain this in between-
it’s an exhausting struggle of understanding
the complexities of the human condition
of wanting to be seen
of wanted to be heard and respected
and I stared in horror, almost breathless
as the karens and the working class
exchange verbal hostile fire
and almost throw hands at each other
as one threatens the other’s livelihood
and the other stood their ground
and I –
was just a witness to the epidemic
of anger in America
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I try on grace and self compassion thinking of the many times
I wanted to be someone else
Mirroring my sister and my best friends to escape from myself
never thinking I was enough-
I even tried to be like my former metamours-
so smart, so pretty, so American
they were placed on pedestals by my exes
so of course I wanted to be like them-
never understood how I never stood a chance
and how nothing I did would matter
my exes always chose them
they were safe,predictable and shared their background
everything I was never going to be
so I chose to embrace who I really am
a woman with a chaotic history who feels everything with a magnitude of intensity
a woman who no longer mirrors others to gain a sense of identity
I now stand firm in the authenticity of my duality
I embrace my God given gift of my creativity and share it shamelessly
there’s no turning back now that I’m fully me
and I no longer care who loves and accepts me
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I sought solace in friends last night
and everyone was busy or asleep
so I cried hysterically in the middle
of the street, and then in the diner
over my fries, and finally in my uber ride
Strangers kept asking me if I was okay
one even offered me a ride
even in my worst moments of crises,
I always find a way to survive
even when I’m in the thick fog
of a mental breakdown
I know now how to take care
of myself and keep myself safe
maybe that was the lesson the universe
sent last night
even in my most hopeless of times
I will always find a way to survive
and eventually be okay
I wrote this poem in October of 2019.
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
as you dispose of me
once again
I hope this time I learn for good
that you only carry
destruction and devastation
within you
that you will never love
or care for me
that you’re a self absorbed
piece of shit
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
And I hate you
but I hate myself even more
for wasting my time and love
on someone who never
deserved it
for trying to see love
and affection that was never there
for falling in love
with a charismatic coward
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I couldn’t tell if you were nervous or just an asshole
trying to impress me with your knowledge
of shakespeare that came off as mansplaning
which was so cringe and annoying
since I told you I have a degree in English
and I had taken two Shakespeare classes
maybe you didn’t take me seriously
because of how short my dress was
or my thigh-high boots caught you off guard
is it some sort of abomination for me
to be smart and smoking hot
that men treat me like I’m a bimbo
they need to save or mansplain shit to
maybe I should start using it to my advantage
play the role of “pretty woman”
observe how much men underestimate me
and write poetry about it
and make it blog content a year later
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
making community with our friends, reconnecting with our roots
loving our children with a loud fervor
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must appreciate
everything we have
the legs that take us on walks and runs
the creativity that flows from our minds
the laughter shared with loved ones
I wrote this poem in September of 2023.
my heart is full of what ifs? What if it works out?
What if I’m not as dumb as I think I am?
What If I stop listening to the voices in my head
that taunt me-telling me I’m not good enough?
What if I’m brave enough today
and chase my dreams despite my haters
and my inner critic?
Life on the BPD 