this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “small”
can’t blend in with this privileged world
wrong age, wrong last name, wrong ethnicity
I stand destined for failure
on this institutions steps
as the pressure to succeeds hang around me
like a noose around my neck
and yet I still keep going
and show up every day
if only to teach my kids a lesson
in how to keep going when you want to quit
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
for almost three years I’ve been waiting for the next guy to appear
as some kind of hero, as some kind of reward for all of my effort
I’ve put into myself and the life I’ve built
Subconsciously I did this
Even as I publicly roared about being empowered on my own
I still wanted someone to be my sanctuary to lay my love in
And I wrote, manifested, schemed, flirted
got obsessed with men were just meant to be friends
Thinking, gosh, if I hang on long enough, he’ll come around
this might work out
but today I discovered the only hero for me
is the woman in the mirror
who still manages to get out of bed
even on the bad days when she’s too tired to function
when she’s exhausted by all of it
here’s the english version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12311
clavos sobre el ataúd del futuro que quería
ni un príncipe azul
ni una casita propia y bonita
en vez miró fijamente al cañón de la pobreza
tratando de buscar algo brillo de lo que alguna fui
entre mis mucho sueños olvidados
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
any idea or notion of romance is lost to me
I’ve tried every which way to make myself appetizing
edible for men to take interest in me, love me
but the story always turns sour
and I’m tired of rejection followed by bouts
of tears and insanity
this spring I will not spend my energy
trying to manifest another fool I’ll get obsessed about
or get caught up in my head and daydreams
this spring I’m going to concentrate
only on my potential that’s yet to bloom
Focus of the world of creativity
that resides within waiting to get out
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
last time I had my last first kiss
it was wasted on a middle age scorpio
I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick
along with my feminine charm
I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me
for him to want to kiss me
he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period
his hands roamed almost every inch of my body
as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out
while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else
I was numb and devoid of feeling anything
Am I even a person?
He said things about how I was so hot and sexy
and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me
And I laughed flirtatiously following the script
I’ve had since I could remember
and I felt no desire or any pleasure
if anything I was repulsed
by him, by myself
hating how even at 40,
I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16
making myself an object of desire for me to play with
and then something snapped in me that day
a couple of hours after that date
I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes
I was entertaining and keeping as options
the same message,
“I’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even
to have men as friends, I wish you the best”
it was hard as I had always been addicted
to men’s attention and validation
but something told me it was time
to switch the narrative
even though I knew it would be lonely
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I hate it when I catch myself being unintentionally sweet
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak
It’s almost as if my armor of empowered Queen
is breaking and I can’t allow that to happen
I’ve come too far in my heroine’s journey
to allow romantic daydreams
to disrupt it
And I’m tempted to erase his messages
And block him
It’s not his fault or mine
It’s the faulty wiring in my brain
it causes the logic in me to short circuit
every time I talk to him
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12220
agujas agudas de agonía penetra mi mente y cuerpo
me siento super debil
cubierta en una frazada de derrota
this poem was the inspired by the 2007 poem:
needles of agony stab my mind and body
I feel a new kind of weak
covered in a blanket of defeat
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12209
asustada y desesperada, me ato a ti
aprendí de niña que la soledad
era una maldición
y qué quedarse sola es la peor cosa
que le puede pasar a una mujer
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually you’d change and one day we’d get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, i’m too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who can’t show an ounce of respect
and dignity
this poem is inspired by the 2007 “veins”:
scared and desperate, I cling onto you
I learned early, solitude is a curse
and being alone is the worst thing
that can happen to a woman
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12198
por un tiempo eras un rompecabezas
siempre tan misterioso
siempre tan cauteloso
nunca hablastes acerca de tu pasado
aunque yo compartí de más de mis trastornos
y aunque me cansaba, seguí tratando
porque mi mamá no crió a un derrotista
pero nada que hice trabajo
nunca pudiste ser vulnerable conmigo
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “fence”
for a while you were an a puzzle to me
always so mysterious
always so guarded
never talked about your past
even as I overshared my trauma
and while it got tiring
I still kept on trying to get you to open up
my mami didn’t raise a quitter
but nothing I did ever worked
you could never bring yourself
to be vulnerable
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
Life on the BPD 