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Privilege and luxury

Very Proud Daughter of Immigrants

What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

Privilege and Luxury


Luxury looks like the chauffeur
who drives me and my sister
to ballet classes
and my brother to karate

Privilege tastes like eating garlic cloves
in bed with my bunny
who wears a knitted hat
made by my Mami

Luxury smells like el amuerzo
of rice and over easy eggs
the maid serves us

Privilege sounds like a bomb
going off near our house
one of its residents
loses his hearing because of it

Luxury feels like my mami understanding
terrorism is at her front door
and applying for U.S sponsorship
through a relative

Privilege is having parents
who crossed the border
for us and with us
out of love and for our safety

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poetry: rebranding

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

soft girl energy

I look forward to the day when I’m no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when I’m no longer dependent on my ex husband
and antipsychotics to survive
when I finally start to resemble something like a normal person
and not the vehement emotional mess I usually am

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poetry: motherhood

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

me with my youngest son

there are days I don’t feel strong enough to be their mom
maybe it’s insecurity that weighs heavily on me
after every fight, after every conflict
it was easier when they were small
and I was their favorite person
the one they ran to the moment I opened the door
nowadays I work much and they have their own interests
to have much to do with me
nowadays they bring up grievances of everything
I’ve done and am doing wrong
is this karma for being a bad daughter to my mom
is this karma for being selfish and self absorbed
for a few years of their lives
Who knows-
maybe it’s not about being strong, being right,
or being respected
maybe it’s about them knowing they are loved

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poetry: a snap 3 years later

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

remembering how I posted this snap so the muse of this poem would see it-lol

saw you and knew right away there wouldn’t be a second date
thought I made that apparent enough at the end
but 3 years later you send me a snap to ask me
if I’m still interested
Sorry
but the woman you met is no longer who I used to be
maybe you had a chance with her
but the new me-she’s careful who she gives access to
the new me has cut off any strings left
from the old life the old me use to live

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poetry: can’t let go

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

age 8 before I discovered Mariah Carey

at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside
for someone else
even as I’m crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
I’ve carried into my middle age

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poetry: ancestor, ancestor

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

the energy this card brings

ancestor, ancestor-
which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions
ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, it’s too basic of an energy
for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make
don’t reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche
and you already have plenty of them in your poetry
Go for the Guiness six pack
make your shitty life decisions with some English class
since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole
whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen

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poetry: Kam Hwy

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

me at 12 when I lived in the duplex

ramen 3 times a day in the dingy 2 bedroom duplex
and it was an upgrade from the miniature apartment
in mid city L.A
the one where there was a bullet hole in my window
so what if the stripper and the landlord’s son
got in screaming matches
so what if the marine next to us beat his wife
weekly for her infidelity
despite the poverty experienced, despite the trashy
and toxic domestic energy
that dingy duplex was freedom to me and my family
it was hope and salvation from the nightmare
of indentured servitude L.A had been

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poetry: ruffles and pastels

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

always such a ham

mami dressed me up in ruffles and pastels whenever she could
I’d swirled and twirled in my dress until I got dizzy
loved when everyone told me, “ay que bonita te miras”
and I awkwardly bowed, smiled, and hid
sashayed to every single one of my relatives
and did the same thing
it’s one of the few times I remembered being vain as a child
one of the few times I didn’t feel weird and like an outcast
external validation learned at the tender age of 8

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poetry: UGA

this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “small”

Poetry: 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

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poetry: ew, spring

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

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poetry: tribute

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I do this for them

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

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poetry: restless

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

me being restless when I was a baby

always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this

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poetry: mess

here’s the 2006 poem “dreams” that inspired this poem:

Poetry : Dreams
fr fr

forgotten dreams remembered
in a bout of depression
I wanted to be much more than this
an overwhelmed mom of two
trying her best but still failing
an chaotic mess who doesn’t
know who she is
underneath the burdens
and expectations placed on her

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poesia: La BRomA que fuiste de verDad

aqui esta la version en Ingles:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11863

un lobo disfrazado de cordero me jodio la vida
fingió ser mi amigo con elogios y empatia falsa
hasta que un dia me di cuenta quien era de verdad
un mentiroso y psicópata
y me enfrente a él y lo bote de mi universo
cuando el me digo que no había hizo nada malo
que le gustaba su privacidad
y no se disculpó por de su mentira de una década
que me destruyo, pero al menos me abrió los ojos
Para que lo descartar de mi vida
y aunque todavía escribo poesía acerca e el
(me dio una gran fuente de inspiración para parar)
estoy bendecida que él está fuera de mi vida
la vida es demasiado corta para que pitucos
como brads, chads, y kens que piensan
que por su privilegio puedan hacer
lo que se le da la gana sin consecuencias