Escribí este poema en 2004 cuando estaba embarazada con mi segundo hijo y enfadada con mi novio porque él no me daba un lugar en su vida.
Ya me canse de esperar
Que me des un sitio en tu vida
Ya me canse de esperar
Con tanta ansiedad
De tus ganas de actuar
Ya me canse de esperar
Que vengas a llevarme
Para empezar una vida juntos
Con mucho amor
Ya me canse de esperar
Que actúes con verdad
Alguna vez
I wrote this in 2004 about my husband who I thought was being distant at the time. As you can guess, I don’t deal with rejection well at all and this is one example of many of how my mind deals with it.
Your frigid ways turn me into nothing
I don’t ask for much
but to you I ask for the world
I try so hard to make something
Out of the nothing
That has become us…
But all of it is meaningless to you
From the ages of 18 to 23, I worked for a government agency as an interpreter. I was well-liked by many of my coworkers and my first supervisor was appreciative of me. I was very good at my job and even cross-trained in many other areas that didn’t “pertain to my job”. However, at that job, I was also bullied and discriminated against for being Latina. I was also slut-shamed by my second supervisor and coworkers the latter 2 years I was there. I don’t want to say I deserved being slut-shamed but I’ll just say that I trusted the wrong coworkers with my private life and they went on to gossip about me to everyone. It was also a very stressful environment because of the work I did and clients I had to interact with. My depression and anxiety went haywire. In 2003, I decided to enroll in my local community college and major in English. In 2004, I was trying to go to school full time, work full time, and deal with my child’s new autism diagnosis. I was breaking down mentally and something had to give so I quit this job. I was fucking done. And this poem was inspired by that moment. I thought I had processed this trauma until it came back up in therapy in the summer of 2021. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had suffered a deep racial trauma that impacted me and still triggered reactions in me. I was angry. There is actually way more to this story and one day I’ll share it when I’m ready.
This was the hardest thing I did
but it had to be done
I couldn’t stand the gossip
or the two faces of everyone
the way they pretended to be my friend
but the minute I turned my back to them
they talked like I was the biggest wench
so much envy and hate
I HAVE TO ESCAPE
FROM THIS MISERABLE FATE!
so today I resigned
I didn’t tell them why
all I know is that for the first time
in a really long time
I feel something like happy
so long to the only place I have known
for an almost five year term
for once I breathe a sigh of relief
I finally had the courage to leave
so long to the hypocrisy of this place
to let myself stay here for another day
would only be a fucking waste
I wrote this in 2004 inspired by a rough family situation I was going through at the time. I needed to process what was happening in some way because I couldn’t confront the person. And well, I wrote this narrative poem.
Poor and destitute
in front of me she stood
asking for shelter and food
with tears streaming down her cheek
she kept on repeating
“let me stay with you tonight,
I promise, one day I’ll make things right”
I didn’t know what to do
for a while I just stood
trying to decide
if what I was about to do was right
so with pain in my heart
I had to say
“please go away”
she tried to resist
by giving me a guilt trip
and I told her once again
“please go away”
she still wouldn’t listen
and made me listen to her reasons
this time I lost control
and yelled at her to
“PLEASE GO AWAY
IF YOU DON’T WANT ME
TO GO CRAZY”
this time she listened to me
maybe she does care for me
it hurt to turn her away
but I couldn’t be swayed
to feel sorry for her
and allow her
to ruin my world
so in the end
this was the dreadful when
I would have to decide
between saving her or me
I wrote this shortly in February of 2004 shortly after my car accident. I was feeling so much depression and anxiety because of it.
I feel so lost
without sense of direction
So many feelings of frustration
over my life’s woes
Feelings of rejection
by the ones who once loved me
Feelings of anger
for never doing anything right
Where can I find the shining light
that I desperately seek?
Escribi este poema en Marzo de 2003 cuando estuve visitando Hawaii y pensaba en mi pasado.
Estoy en el mismo lugar
donde era una adolecente inmadura,
Impulsiva, e insegura
pero ahora soy otra
Una que piensa antes de arriesgar
una que mirar antes de pisar
Una que trata de olvidar
Antes de contemplar todo
lo que no fue de su vida
I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was frustrated with Matt and blamed him for my life going awry. Looking back, it was misplaced blame on a situation that only I had control over. At the time, it was much easier to blame Matt rather than take a look at myself and how I was responsible for the mess I made of my life.
Dear son
How do I stop
from feeling all of this resentment and anger
at the deadbeat who calls himself your dad?
Dear son
Will I ever feel better
about our almost dead-end situation
your dad has put us in?
Dear son
Will you ever forgive me
for not having everything
someone as wonderful as you should have?
Dear son
Can you show me where to
find a glimmer of hope
and that without him
both of us will be alright?
So I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was dating my husband and maybe I was foreshadowing my future with him (sort of-haha). I think that maybe I was paranoid he had someone else at the time because he was such a private person. Reflecting on this now is kind of strange because I was the one that ended up with the indiscretions. I was 22 when I wrote this and I have I think that this is a good example of “splitting” meaning that I went to black and white thinking about him.
FALSE FAIRY TALE
Everyone believes that you and I
are the real deal
That we are perfect
and don’t have issues
Little do they know
that you treat me with no worth
That to you
I am not your only girl
That I close my eyes and ears
and deny to myself the fact
That your indiscretions are real
that you just used me as a tool
To have everyone fooled
That you have the perfect wife
And you are the perfect husband
but I am too tired of this
False fairy tale
I have to get out of this lie
Before I lose what’s important
for the sake of your arrogance
So tonight I leave our once “happy” home
so I won’t lose
All that’s left of me
I wrote this in January of 2004 when things were good with my husband but I was already having lots of anxiety about our relationship.
Why couldn’t he see
that him and I were meant to be?
Why couldn’t he say
that I was more than part
of his wild phase?
Why couldn’t I be all he wanted
instead of sending my heart
to its deathbed?
I will never love again!
Why couldn’t I see right through him-
Instead I let him pull me like a puppet
on a string
Why couldn’t he see that me and him
would make sense as a we?
I wrote this in January of 2004 when I first started dating my husband. The age difference between caused a real uproar in both of our families and my friends.
I don’t want us to be ruined
By outside influences
Those people who are in disbelief
that you could fall for somebody
As plain and unimpressive as me
Those people that are jealous
of our unconditional love
And can’t stand to think
One day you’ll give me a ring
I wrote this in May of 2003 when I was going wrestling with a terrible bout of depression. I kept trying to find the light of the end of the tunnel but it was hard.
A sponge is what I am as I start
to absorb this mortifying
and painful experience
From a sponge I become
A meatloaf of frustration
From a meatloaf I become
A tall and full glass of self pity and regret
From the tall and full glass I’m trying
Very hard to become a hard rock of acceptance
I wrote this in May of 2003 when one of my close friends had a miscarriage.
It’s so funny and ironic
When something bad happens
most people says things
Like “it’s God’s way”
or the famous
“Whatever doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger”
It makes you wonder if there
are actual people out there
who would say,
“It’s okay to be mad at God’s way”
or
“It’s alright to be weak instead of strong”
or that it’s perfectly fine to scream out loud
“FUCK THE WORLD”
If there is a least one person like this,
I want them to become my new “best friend”
Life on the BPD 