I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I could be the poster child for love fiascos-
I love too fast, and too hard-
I’m the fool of the tarot
risking everything even my sanity for love-
getting caught up in feelings and magic
being delusional that somehow it could work out
even when the red flags scream at me-
I say fuck it-I switch off the logic button in me
and go all in
December 19th is National Emo Day and I wanted to honor it by sharing my spotify playlist with my favorite Emo Songs. I started listening to Emo music when my best friend introduced me to Taking Back Sunday and Brand New in college. I liked the music but didn’t get into it until the summer of 2021. I remember I was on my summer staycation from hell and had this feeling of numbness and shock in my body as I was doing my power walk and no song was hitting the spot for me to feel something. I was also having a lot of intrusive and negative thoughts at the time so I was trying to feel something, anything to get out of my head and stay safe. None of the music I was listening to was hitting the spot and then I decided to try my former angry playlist and Cut without the E came on and omg my anger came out in full force. It was like this weird gift from the universe because well, I finally felt something and it was powerful. It feels strange to say that rage felt empowering to me but it did. It knocked me out of my self pity and hardcore suicidal ideation into my anger phase of the grief I was in and it was what I needed at the time. It was the song I needed to get me through one of the hardest times in my life. Anyways, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve listened to the album, “Tell All Your Friends” by Taking Back Sunday that summer. Then I rediscovered Brand New, and discovered Fallout Boy, Panic!At the Disco and the music really resonated with me. I always joke around with my friends that “maybe I just like these white boys yelling angry lyrics in my ear” lmao. But seriously, there is something about that white boy angst and anger that really hits the spot when I’m in a bad mood. Well, rap music also hits the spot but that’s another blog post. Lol. This summer I was actually lucky enough to see Taking Back Sunday with Third Eye Blind in concert with the same best friend who introduced me to TBS. It’s weird to say but it was one of the most joyous experiences of my life. It was one of the times when I was thankful of the intensity of emotions that comes with my BPD because when I’m happy, oh boy, it’s almost overwhelming but in a good way.
Below is a video of me in the summer of 2021 and the summer of 2022. There is a clear difference in both versions of me. I remember being so reactive and full of rage when I recorded the video where I’m in my room and immediately posting it on tik tok. I was in my “fuck the world” stage of grief. The video at the concert is me in this state of complete happiness and joy. I remember thinking “wow, I’m just really happy at this moment listening to this song. There is no room for anger in my heart”. It’s dramatic to say that it was cathartic for me but it was. To diminish that moment to something less than that would be invalidating what I felt at that moment.
Here is my spotify playlist of my favorite emo songs for your listening pleasure:
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
This time it will be different-I lie to myself over and over again-
and for a while I’ll believe it-but it never works out and they always leave-
And I wonder how words fail me when this happens-
it’s a magnitude of emotions-
Intense, mega, uber, all consuming, overwhelming-
Some things cannot adequately expressed even with bilingual vocabulary-
maybe not everything is meant to be written down
it’s just meant to be felt, held intimately in my heart and mind
maybe it’s a private thing between me and the universe
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
fragments of who I was weave in and out of my prose and poetry-
I keep trying to honor the old me
when she comes back with my insecurities
and reminds me of how I constantly screw up anything
resembling love
I no longer shame her or call her the worst version of me-
she was just trying to navigate life not understanding
she was an undiagnosed hurricane of emotions-
that couldn’t control or manage
She didn’t go to therapy or know about DBT
And she’s still full of grief for the life she couldn’t live-
so she keeps on showing up trying to shake up
my newfound confidence and power
it’s her version of jealousy, and I walk with her for a while
Console her, and let her know how because of her
I did the work, and now she can feel happiness and joy through me
I will forever be grateful to her and pay tribute to her when I tell her story
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
my transformation and rebirth meant giving voice to my shadow
who’s vindictive, petty, and mean
I’ve never really allowed her to breathe
much less be seen
and now she’s almost everywhere-
taking space in uncomfortable spaces
learning she’s not bad-
she just needed attention and to feel valued
I’ve finally accepted she’s an important part of me
who needs to be seen
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I’m tired of same repetitive compliments
You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying”
you’re BEAUTIFUL
but never in my life
have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent,
or have I been told that I inspire poetry?
and old lonely me would entertain
these flimsy lust or love possibilities
kept my standards low to keep my bed warm
and to escape my chronic emptiness
but after almost a year of solitude
my standards have been raised to the ceiling
and now I’m protective of my energy
anyone who wants to get near me
will have to make a solid effort
write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners
and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have done the work-
I loved you more than enough to change, to accommodate
to make compromises, to share my vulnerability with you
but you weren’t ready to match my efforts
and love only grows when two people are ready to evolve
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I bet now months go by and he never thinks of me-
maybe he does when he sees a crazy bitch on his feed
he’ll remember me for a moment
and think “damn, I dodged a bullet”
and then he’ll scroll on to something else
that’s way more interesting
It’s been 4 years since I took an oath to become an American citizen. I took an oath specifically to Trump which makes me nauseous typing BUT I also took an oath because of Trump. Before making the decision to become an American citizen, I had never really cared about politics but that was until Trump got elected. If you were a POC or immigrant or both, you felt the shift in the racial tension in the U.S right before the election but especially after the election. Racists overtly made their ignorant beliefs known that immigrants were not welcomed in this country. DACA was in the process of being repealed. DACAmented kids who should have been protected were being deported and there was a rise in deportation for undocumented immigrants as well or well the media made it seem like that. I felt that as an immigrant with LPR (legal permanent resident) status, I could possibly be next. In February of 2016, I sent my paperwork to USCIS to solidify my relationship with America. One could say that for better or worse, I finally decided to make a commitment to this country. Here is my blog post about the process:
https://rejectingstagnationafter.wordpress.com/2018/09/04/becoming-a-citizen-in-the-age-of-trump/
What has changed in the past 4 years since becoming an American and what does being American mean to me now?
Well, I’ve voted in 2 elections since I’ve become an American including the national election in 2020 (yay, no more Trump). In October of this year, I applied for my passport and have received it. Now, I can take a trip out of the country without any worries or concerns. While it is an immense privilege to be an American citizen since I now have a whole new world of opportunities opened up and I can travel anywhere; I feel that I haven’t really changed on the inside. I still see myself and identify as an immigrant but now I also call myself an American. But to be honest, my idea of being an American has changed. I used to think I needed a piece of paper to say “Oh, I’m American” but for better or worse, America is and has been ingrained in me since that hot September day in 1986 when I set my foot on American soil at the age of 5.
I was an American when every morning at school I would say the Pledge of Allegiance in my broken and terrible English at the age of 6 and 7.
I was an American when I went back to Peru at age 9 to get my resident alien status solidified with my family.
I was an American when I met my childhood best friends in Hawaii at age 11.
I was an American when I had my babies at ages 17, 24, and 30.
I was American when I started working for the government at the age of 18.
I was an American when I got my college degree in 2009 from the University of Georgia .
I was an American in 2016 and early 2017 when I attended protests and marches for immigrant and women’s rights.
And I was an American when people told me, “my english is good for being a Mexican” or I’ve been discriminated against or oppressed in this country by the people that don’t want “my kind” here.
I used to believe that I didn’t belong here because of the racism, prejudice, and ignorance I’ve encountered but that’s no longer the case. This year, I finally let go of those beliefs because I’ve embraced that I am America and America is me. My life may have been harder in many aspects because I wasn’t the average “American born” citizen but I will tell you that I wouldn’t trade my experience as an American to be average. I I feel that working harder than the “average American” for my success has made me appreciate my success so much more and for that I am thankful. My parents had no idea of the many hardships they would endure making the decision to immigrate to this country but I am glad they made that journey. It’s taken me 35 years to get here but today I can honestly say that I’m proud to be an American.
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I try my best to take delight in my life and enjoy everything good
but fuck it, if I have to be honest with myself-
sometimes the depression gets the best of me
and I drink and write sad and pathetic things
about how I want to cut my wrists and watch the blood leave my body
maybe I’m just embracing the cliche of being a tortured artist
or my darkness needs a place to fucking go-
at least I’m now acknowledging it instead of suppressing it-
and I almost spiral into a cycle of self loathing
but instead say “fuck it- this is who I fucking am sometimes”-
An emo girl caught up in her trauma and hormones-
Wait-how did this poem turn into–
Oh yeah-the prompt delight
well whatever this is its the best drunk and depressed me has to give
to my creativity tonight
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
4/24/23
I wrote this poem inspired by a coworker who pretended to be my friend while stabbing me in the back. She also gaslighted me about the whole situation when I confronted her. She also accused me of neglecting my oldest son when I went back to college and told me, “you be like other Hispanics and just work hard” . I left this workplace shortly after. All I can say is don’t trust March Pisces from Gainesville. Lol.
with this pen in my hand your reputation I’ll disband
20 years later, it might seem like an overreaction
but the trauma you cause still causes me turmoil
it’s time to let the the world know
what kind of person you really are
pretending to be my friend and have my best interests at heart
but behind my back you made me the subject of gossip among our colleagues
and this almost broke me apart and caused deep seated racial trauma
Were you jealous of me or were you projecting your insecurities?
I hope one day everyone sees past your bullshit
And realizes you’re the biggest counterfeit
2004
Life on the BPD 