I wrote this in 2002. It was one of those moments when I was having one of those moments where my self esteem was high and I was like fuck love, I’m awesome by myself.
me in 2002 when I wrote this poem
She is not that woman who needs a man She alone fulfills her dreams Without him, her face still beamsme
She is not that beauty chick Who has all the men at her feet Sheβs got something else When the world of beauty fails
She is not that pushover girl Submissive with the golden curls Sheβs got her own mind Love is not worth her time
She is not that Ms.Prom Queen Who wants an engagement ring A husband she could care less about Sheβd rather not take that life route
I wrote this in early January 2002 about some random dude I was talking to online. I never met the dude that inspired this poem.
sometimes I’m both
So you want to meet soon? I wonder why You say because I sound Sexy and great But should I take another chance And end up with another horrible waste of a man who will regard me as just another good fuck Or maybe Iβm being too cynical And you for once will be Mr.Right What I know is that I couldnβt stand again being a fad
I wrote this in January of 2002 after I met my married coworker Lucas to who I became attracted to . I think I had just known him for a week but right away I became infatuated with him.
sometimes you can’t help who you’re attracted to
What am I doing? Longing and yearning For something that so obviously not meant to be What am I doing? Hoping and wishing that youβll leave her soon so youβll be my love king What am I doing? Allowing to lose myself Driving me to confess That thereβs something I feel Maybe this time itβs for real
I’m not sure which ex I wrote this about but this is the general feeling I have when a relationship is going well. My anxiety goes up and I catastrophized. This was written in 2000.
I am scared That my heart will tear I am worried One day youβll be sorry Iβm so frightened Itβs just a matter of when I am just tired After so many liars My mind is stuck Thinking you just want to fuck I am careful Trying to not end up a fool
So today marks my 10 anniversary since starting this blog. Iβll admit that until the summer of this year I didnβt take this blog as seriously as maybe I should have. I started this blog in December of 2011 after my house was broken into and we were robbed. It was traumatizing to me and my family and I needed a way to process it so I started blogging. Here is that blogpost:
Since starting this blog, there have been a lot of life changes. I’ve blog about those life changes few times when just writing it down doesnβt do the trick. The way that I have explained it to friends and family is that the blog is like screaming into the void of cyberspace.In October of 2019, I started posting my poetry and this was another level of intimacy for me because I donβt share my poetry with just anyone. I will share my poetry or writing with one of my close friends or sometimes at open mic at my local pub .Then I started a second job and I didnβt have the time needed to dedicate to this blog but I always kept writing. Then I got into a relationship that lasted until July of this year. While Iβm not getting into how that relationship ended or why (thatβs blog content for late next year-lol) it was one of the reasons I started blogging again. The demise of that relationship was unexpected and devastating for me so I turned to my first coping mechanism-writing. Shortly before my breakup in July, I started therapy and was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and that was a lot to process in itself. Being broken up while dealing with a new diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder felt like I had experienced 2 really horrible car wrecks within a week. I compare it to a car accident because thatβs probably one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Except this time, it wasnβt my car that was totaled and unrepairable, it was me. I felt like I had lost part of my identity since I was no longer someoneβs partner and I gained a new part of my identity in being diagnosed with BPD. I felt completely overwhelmed with no sense of direction; I honestly didnβt know what to do next. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry while Alexa played my sad girl playlist from Spotify. Here is that playlist:
And while I did do that some of the time; I understood I still needed to get up every day and show up for myself somehow. And showing up for myself meant writing. And so I wrote every day in my journal and in my numerous notebooks. I wrote letters at 3 AM that I would never send, journal entries full of immense sadness and rage, and tons and tons of poetry.
these are just a few of my journals and well Sylvia Plath is of course one of my favorite poets
A few days after my breakup, I decided to blog about my diagnosis to start to make sense of it and hereβs that post:
After writing that post and it got more than a few views and a couple of likes, it made me realize that there are other people like me. I also got the idea at that time that healing for me would look like me revisiting past traumatic situations through my poetry and reflections or writing a blog post. And this was chaotic in itself because I started posting poetry from all stages in my life. So around late October and early November, I started posting poetry for the most part chronologically from the early stages of my writing with the very first poem I wrote when I was 15 and hereβs that poem:
My writings and poetry are confessional, sometimes childish, and at times super emotional. Itβs meant for people who have felt misunderstood in their anger and grief, it’s meant for people who feel everything at once and feel overwhelmed by it, it’s meant for people who have traumas theyβre still not over, and it’s meant for people who have given their trust and vulnerability to the wrong people only to be broken over and over again by doing this.
so I kept writing
My future plan for this blog is to continue to post poetry, essays, playlists, and other writings. Without intending to, this blog has become a storytelling blog. And itβs a story about a woman who is far from perfect. Itβs a story of woman who lies, who loves hard, who hates even harder, who loves sex, who has been abandoned by lovers and who has abandoned lovers, whoβs crazy, and who feels immense sadness and rage when trauma hits. Itβs a story of a woman who fucks up continuously but still manages to get up and try to become a better version of herself than she was yesterday. Itβs also a story of a woman who has continued to triumph after trauma. Most importantly itβs a story of a woman who is done accommodating to peopleβs and society’s expectations of who she should be and at 40 has realized that being authentic and true to herself is the only and right way for her to be. I may have changed a lot within a decade but what will never change is my love for writing and my purpose to continue to share my story.
Here’s to 10 more years of writing about my vida loca
I hope you know that YOU really shouldn’t think about dating me unless you want me to write loads and loads of sad and angry breakup poetry about you once you leave. Just kidding. Maybe. LMAO Anyways, here is another salty poem about the great breakup of 2001.
I hope you know you made a mistake The day you decided to go astray You have just lost the best thing Itβll get under your skin And you will one day regret The day you decided to forget It was just supposed to be about me and you And youβll feel like such a damn fool For Iβll never let you walk back into my life Knowing you made love to me with your disgusting lies I hope youβre miserable with her and karma comes for you and her and for me you’ll just be another nightmare
I wrote this in December 2001 after seeing my ex “S” from the “great breakup of 2001”. I saw him at mall while I was shopping. I remember not being able to breathe and having to get out of there.
forgiveness is hard
I was minding my own business when I came upon your ugly face I started right away to get restless Thinking how you had been such a fucking waste I hope you didnβt notice How I had forgotten to breathe How the memory of your kiss Came back to me Thatβs when I had to turn around and leave
I wrote this in January of 2002 about Lucas , my married coworker. We are finally at this chapter of my life; yeah, the one where I fell “in love” with my married coworker. I was 20, almost 21 and he was 31. This was one of the most interesting and tumultuous seasons of my love life due to the crazy circumstances surrounding it but that’s another blog post. Lol.
attraction
And so I finally meet The man of my destiny But of course There is a minor oversight He is bound to another by law But does his face light up when she enters the room? Does he desire me as I desire him? Does he care for her the way I care for him? Does he still want her as bad as I want him?
This was the second poem I wrote in December of 2001 inspired after seeing my ex “S” at the mall. I was still feeling all of those raw emotions after this breakup when I wrote this. Looking back on it, I’m glad that at the time, I took my emotions out on paper instead of finding other means of escape with alcohol or someone else.
There you were In front of me My love murderer I wanted to yell and scream and say You are the most deceitful, lying, scum king I wanted to throw at you my fist with all my might And punch those lips I had once kissed I wanted to kill you with a look that said You bastard, look at how much you took away from me Instead, I had to walk away and take back with me All I wanted to do or say
So I really needed therapy then. Hahaha. This is another salty poem from the great breakup of 2001.This poem is obviously directed at “S” ex-wife who let me know he was cheating on me. Thinking back on it now, I was pretty cruel to the poor girl on the phone. Any anger I had felt should been directed at him and not her. She was in the same situation I was in.
And that dynamite exploded
So you got my man Thank you for getting him off my hands So you think he loves you Itβs just a line to fuck you So you think I still want him I could care less about such a sorry thing So you think you are meant to be You are blind too, I see So you think heβs the real deal He doesnβt know what itβs like to feel So you think youβre lucky You got yourself another false story So you think Iβm saying this because Iβm super pissed Nah, Iβm saying this cause youβre another girl on his growing list
Another poem written about the great breakup of 2001. This is a great example of my black and white thinking that comes with having BPD. LMAO.
Me with my nephew in 2001 around the time I wrote this poem
I thought you were kind I never thought you would destroy after a short time I thought you loved me I never thought you would betray me I thought we were meant to be I never thought you would cheat on me I thought I was the only one you cared about I never thought lying was what you were about I thought you were my dream come true I never thought you werenβt being true I thought I could put my trust in you I never thought you would make me so blue
I wrote this poem in 2002 about Brad, my former friend who lied to me for about a decade. Before I wrote this poem, we had met up maybe once and fooled around. After that, I tried to make it go back to a platonic friendship but he kept pressuring me for more.
I feel so fucking bad My dear friend Brad I know that you were displeased I never meant for to think I was a tease But I can no longer be that girl That doesnβt know her worth And is okay with being a βgood layβ Sorry for not being able to be your booty call Itβs just that I have learned That if I want respect I have to be firm I hope youβll forgive me and understand And we can again be friends and hang
I wrote this in November of 2001 about the great breakup of that year. I was quite salty. Hey, at least I didn’t go Joe Goldberg on his ass. Lmao. Sometimes as a way to process trauma, I will write letters to the people that have hurt me. This is an example of one of them.
I feel like this same story has repeated in my life over and over again
My heart knew you were no good Something told it you were not being true All those days you were out there βworkingβ You had been out there fucking I shouldβve known to walk away The first time your lying ways gave you away But I wanted so badly to believe That you were truly in love with me Now Iβm a big mess But I deserve this I guess For not listening to myself And falling in love with your sorry self Iβm glad weβve reached the end Cause baby you were hell sent
I wrote this in 1998 about my pregnancy. I wrote this after telling my traditional and catholic parents I was pregnant. I was six months along and went into a deep depression afterwards that lasted maybe a year after the birth of my first child. Yes, I was a teen mom with post partum depression and there wasn’t much anyone could do at the time. I still got up to go to school and took care of my child. My life was no longer just about me, I was responsible for another life. Maybe that’s when I learned to mask so well. I learned to show up no matter what. On the upside, I had really supportive parents who were for me when they could have abandoned me. On the downside, some of my closest friends did. Sometimes I wonder if going through something this traumatic did stunted my maturity in some areas.
me at 17 around the time I wrote this poem
No more fun No more just βlying in the sunβ Dirty diapers and Barney Will sum up the next few years for me No more hanging out with friends No more having tons of boyfriends Strollers and snotty noses Will be how my adolescence closes
I wrote this poem in 2001. It’s another poem about the “great breakup” of 2001. I think part of the reason I took that breakup so hard was that I had idealized that relationship thinking finally I found the one. Lol. I was just really tired of jumping into relationships time after time and them not working out.
Yeah..I was mad..lol
I thought I was the only one in your heart I never thought that the time would come when youβd say βItβs time we partβ It never crossed my mind that there was somebody else I always thought you were only mine I thought we had more time