I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
someday everything won’t feel so heavy
someday I won’t swim in anxiety
someday I’ll find self love
Someday I’ll be enough
Someday, someday, someday
Maybe someday is today
today I see the light
today I’m grateful for my life
today I feel like enough
Today I have self love
Maybe just maybe
Today I’m truly happy
I wrote this on Valentine’s Day of 2022.
I fucked many recklessly without a purpose
some part of me was looking for love
it was a temporary cure when I wanted to avoid emptiness
it was a temporary cure for my painful loneliness
so I used the the magic of my body
to feel like somebody, like I was worthy
But one day I got tired of how it wasn’t enough
and found my worth and self love
I mean, sure it was fun but I’m done, done and done
I forgive the person I once was who mistook lust for love
I didn’t know any better and settled for prince charmings
when I really needed a king to match my love energy
A king who accepts all of me and not just her body
A king who wants to evolve and grow with me
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I wish for sleep to take me away to a dreamless land
but I’ll take unpleasant dreams about ghosts from my past
just so my body can get a full night’s rest
But sleep evades me,it runs away from me
like a lover who lures me with a taste of love
only to abandon me on a whim
and I try and try and try to shut down my mind
but tonight an emotional triggers hit me and trauma visits me
My body and mind remembers the adrenaline rush
of emotional and physical wounds and it scares sleep off
I wonder what to do next and get angry at my traitorous body
but I remember-trauma is complex and while most of it has been processed
There are still remnants that come out to be seen, to be addressed
And I end up here with the nightmare of insomnia that won’t let me rest
And while it’s scary I remember it’s also temporary
eventually my body has to give in and I’ll fall asleep
How does death change your perspective?
word press prompt of the day
lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-
lately I feel like I’m not doing enough
and lately this fucks me up
so I over work, over exercise,
and over post
to make myself worthy of my existence
I want to make sure I’m leaving
some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy
behind that I’m remembered by
but it’s really me trying to please
the inner critic in me
who comes out when I’m most vulnerable
in my grief
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m constantly shunned from men who profess their love
when I show up feral and without a filter
They’ll call me their princess until I show them my wild
They always love me beautiful and submissive
and they leave when I get assertive and subversive
They feel deceived when they fall for a polite princess
And somehow end up with an amazon Queen
Maybe it’s the Incan in me who can’t reign it in
They say, “you’re too much, you’re too crazy”
Is there a man out there who can handle my duality?
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m 18 and walking across the football stadium to receive my diploma
the one I almost didn’t get, my parents and I breathe a sigh of relief
I’m 24 and I hold my baby boy in my arms, it’s love at first sight
he’s the best birthday present and I’m humbled
I’m 28 and I’m graduating from college,it’s been a an arduous journey to get here
but I make it and my dad cries and tells me how proud he is of me
I’m 30 and holding my third baby boy, he’s my rainbow after the worst storm
everyone in my family holds him and there is an overflow of love
I’m 36 and my oldest son is walking across the gymnasion to receive his diploma
I cry with elation and pride, my heart is filled with pride and joy for him
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I forgive myself at 15 for crying over an idiot
who was never worth my time and energy
but he did spark my poetic voice
I forgive myself at 20 for writing more than 50 poems
about a 6 week relationship in 2001
but it did make for some hilarious blog content in 2021
I forgive myself at 25 for not fighting harder for my dreams
and for swallowing my anger and angst for the comfort of others
but that year I became a playwright
I forgive myself at 30 for drowning the writer in me
as I lost myself in my roles as wife and mother
but that year I launched my blog
I forgive myself at 35 for swallowing a bottle of xanax
because I felt like a failure as wife, mother, and worker
but the dark poetry from that time is some of my best
I forgive myself at 40 for wanting to die for two weeks in July
after being discarded by the “supposed” love of my life
but that summer I found the confidence to call myself a writer
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/06/cada-dia/
My heart sings when you’re near me,
people tell me its infatuation
that I fall too fast for the wrong men
but they’re wrong, so wrong
What I feel is love
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/26/poetry-why-dont-you/
porque no te armas de valor y le dices la verdad
en vez de correr de tus sentimientos con infidelidad y borracheras
estas haciendo dano a ti y a ella
pronto tu conciencia te devorara
no te estoy juzgando, estoy preocupado por ti
la gente está empezando con sus chismes
hasta piensan que soy la causa de ti infidelidad
y mientras me río de sus chismes
nuestra colega me contó la verdad
que ella es cómplice en tu infidelidad
y la mirada en su cara me dijo todo
ella está desesperadamente enamorada
esto es un juego de amor peligroso que estás jugando
donde tres personas se van a quemar
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/17/poesia-inquieta/
I am restless and unsettled
realizing you never loved me
I was just another girl to you
nothing special, nothing meaningful
just someone temporary to pass the time with
I’m growing tired of this repetitive story
Another love that expires when I ask
for something more
Another story that starts off with so much promise
only to end up as another tragedy
I wrote this in January of 2022.
I’m done apologizing for being too much or not enough
I’ve always been enough
I’m done apologizing for being crazy
I’m God’s creation of a perfect imperfection
I’m done apologizing for being too bland or too spicy
I’m a perfect blend of whatever I want to be
I’m done apologizing for being me!
I wrote this in January of 2022.
Writing is my lifeline
with it, I’m almost fine
without it I’m almost lost
and my mind pays the cost
Writing is my lifeline
Especially since I’m borderline
It’s brings my truth to the forefront
It’s almost my antidepressant
Writing is my lifeline
It’s part of my life’s design
I accept it as my passion
and also my ammunition
I wrote this in January of 2022. I was angry.
Fighting for my cause
I question everything I learned
I take time to pause
my childhood lies burn
and make feel lost
Fighting for my family
I get so fucking angry
Why are people so shitty?
insulting my ancestry-
projecting their insecurities onto me-
Wait, are they jealous of me?
Fighting for my life
I pause of a while
thinking about all of my strife
and the past I need to reconcile
to move forward with my life
but this fight is worthwhile
I wrote this in January of 2022.
I’m at another one of life’s crossroads
trying not to make a turn for the worst
don’t stop but don’t go too fast
I want my momentum to last
I slow down and observe
and carefully ride life’s curves
and this time I really listen
and reach out to close friends
I’m not okay but I will be okay
soon I’ll find my way
I’m still grasping for a stable sense of self
and learning how to love and accept myself
I wrote this in January of 2022.
my real diagnosis should be “failure at love”
childhood trauma gave me abandonment issues
teenage trauma cemented it and added identity issues
combined with chronic emptiness
I couldn’t stand the constant void within
so I chased love trying to fill it
constantly sought out validation from men
to stop feeling ugly and alone
I’ve used them and they’ve used me
as band aids for our mutual loneliness
and when I start to feel sure of their love
it suddenly disappears
and all of my issues came back with force
with suicidal ideation entwined
And still I dusted myself off
and tried my luck with love over and over again
thinking each time it will be different
except it never is
they always tire of me and decide to leave
and once again my insanity hits and I break
Intrusive thoughts spiral in my head in an endless loop
“’i’m a failure to love,i’m a failure at love,
i’m a failure with love,i’m never enough,
i’m worthless, death must be better than this”
this was my tragic love story for 26 years
but on year 26, I said “fuck this tragic love story”
and I got the courage to change it
I’m not a failure to love, I’m not a failure at love
or I’m not a failure with love
I’m enough by myself, I can be alone by myself
and I turn into a success story of love
Life on the BPD 