I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Is this a new kind of avoidance?
Blocking and escaping any new love possibility-
or maybe I finally understand
How much I value my solitude
Maybe I’m finally enjoying an inner peace and calm
that comes with being alone
Maybe I’ve finally learned I really am enough on my own
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’m not trying to be rude, I’m not trying to be mean
but I can wear whatever I want, I can post whatever I want
Your reaction to any of it is not my responsibility
I don’t care if you acquire a thirst for me
and delude yourself into thinking you love me
I’m just woman sharing my story however I see fit
in order for me to heal, in order for me to help others
feel a bit seen
I’m not here for some random man to tried
to persuade into a love story I’ll never be
interested in writing
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
closing the door to love is filling up every moment I’m awake
with work,therapy, my kids activities, time with friends,
Exercise, facing fears, writing, writing, and more writing
because I want to be so busy I don’t have time to think-
to think about romance, to think about what could have been
to think about how nice it is to have someone
so instead, I fill up every second of my life
with everything that fuels my growth
so I don’t have time to think about this love nonsense
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
I try to banish the clouds of doubts and insecurities in me
everytime I’m in love, I get like this
everytime I start to feel comfortable in a new sanctuary
I start to question
if i’m worthy, if i’m deserving
is it possible that really, I’m the problem
and the one who sabotages everything
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Cover me with a blanket of lies and tell me you love me
tell me I’m the only one for you
and false promises about you’ll never leave
and how you’re not like the other guys
Love me at your convenience, love me when I’m easy
I’ll believe the fantasy and play my role
of the perfect and polite princess
until one day, I grow out of my role and explode
and I’ll discover once again
you’re like everyone else
who can only stand me for a short while
and accuse me of being a crazy bitch and leave
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’ll leave an emotional stain on your life that will be hard to get rid of
You’ll curse the day I was born
You’ll regret the day you ever meet me
because I demand respect, because I’ll never be your safe place
because I’ll say “no” to being relegated to the role of mistress
and you’ll accuse me of being crazy and narcissist
just because I wanted to be treated with dignity
just because I want to be seen as more than another girl to pass the time with
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
it’s not romance, it’s harassment
placing me on your dream girl altar
and telling me about your boner
Even after I told you no
But then you still threw me your delusional love
and when I was honest right away
and I told you “I’m sorry but no”
somehow now I’m a crazy bitch,
a stranger
who’s letting her mental illness talk for her
after calling out your misogynistic behavior
All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue
I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry
I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer
but you kept playing the part of my great admirer
and maybe I’m fucked up in the head
but your fantasies I needed to behead
I needed to keep myself safe from men like you
who try to bully me into loving them
into giving in because your endless attention
and compliments
haven’t you read my story?
I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends
to man’s thirst for me
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
my rage comes in like a bright orange burst and it explodes in social media posts,
my notebooks, and journal
it’s my inner child scared and anxious who feels threatened
and take it upon herself to call on middle age me
to defend her, to protect her from the cruelty and abuse happening in front of her
so many families like mine torn apart
so many immigrant children like me many years ago crying for their parents
not understanding why this is happening
and I feel the heavy weight of impotence not knowing how I can help
or what to do to stop all of this needless pain and suffering happening in front of me
and all I see is a bright orange burst of rage ready to punch walls
because my empathetic and soft heart feels the cries, the whimpers, the screams
of the parents and kids whose only crime was to leave their country
in search for a better life
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
to inhabit and exist in my body is exhausting
it’s constantly being in fight or flight mode
constantly waiting in hypervigilance
for the next atrocity from this administration
wondering if my son will make it home today without incident
worrying if my parents or brother will be taken away by the American Gestapo
lighting candles and praying on my rosary for my family’s safety and my sanity
try my best to function as democracy is falling and continuously reminding people
yes, immigrants are human beings and deserving of respect and dignity
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
floating in a neon pink haze , the afterlife awaits
no more suffering, no more mental health crisis
no more dark doses of reality
this could be lovely and nice
but I’m pushed out by forces beyond my control
wake up in a fog
my soul’s purpose has not been fulfilled
I must continue telling my story
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
In therapy I’m supposed to write about the last thing that cause me grief
and I think it’s funny considering the tons of poetry and journal entries
I’ve written about it
I’m tired of writing about it, I’m tired of talking about it
I’m tired of thinking about it
and I want to tell my therapist I don’t have homework for this week
but this is part of therapy
this is what I need to address the unhealed trauma within
so I’ll write for the 1000th time about the last thing that caused trauma and grief
hoping my therapist will provide valuable insight on how to let go of it
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I believe in second and third chances
because more often than not
I’m the one who’s written off
because more often than
I’m left after the first time I fuck up
because more often than
I’m expected to be almost perfect
and this weighs on me heavily
but it’s my cruel reality
so I’ll give a second, a third, even a 4th chance
because I believe people can change
because I accept people for the humans they are
because even if my benevolence burns me at times
at least I don’t commit an emotional crime
cause judgment without compassion
makes one an inhumane and callous
I wrote this poem in May of 2019.
And so she self medicated
with sleeping pills, alcohol
and Almodovar films
she wanted to drown out
the feelings of worthlessness
within her
she was exhausted
from repeating the same lust story
she needed just for today
to numb out her feelings,
to escape the fire in her brain
that burns with self-pity and self hate
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
Wish I could say I’m a chill and cool kind of girl when it comes to love
but I’m not
because once I’m into you and I let you in
it will be hard to get rid of me
because I am a nurturer and I’ll love you with my whole heart
and I’ll make you the center of my world and find ways for us to get closer
wait, wait, wait
this version of me no longer exist
she went up in flames a few years back
Nowadays, the slightest sirens go off in me and I want to run away and block him
Cease and desist any evidence of him, the slightest offence
and it takes everything out of me to remember my skills learned in therapy
Tell him, I need a bit of time to process and we’ll talk in the morning
I know that after a good night’s sleep, I’ll look at things differently
and won’t fuck up my new love story because of a single simple misunderstanding
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I’m the girl who screamed wolf in love in my poems one too many times
always acting like I’m the victim
always acting like I’m the hurt party
always acting like I’m fucked over in love when the truth is
I too have broken hearts
I too am shit at relationships
I too dispose of men once they fall off from my pedestal
and so perhaps, I need to stop screaming wolf
and accept that every once in a while
I am the wolf who’s capable of destroying and disposing of people as well
Life on the BPD 