a shot of eggnog for every time love went wrong and I end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning something about the holidays always triggers my depression and now that the kids are older I no longer have to fake cheerfulness to be a mom to them and now that I’m alone once again, I regress back to the bitter bitch I was before him and instead of reaching out to him and sending him the dozens of poems about his departure Instead, I drink several shots of alcoholic eggnog while listening to olivia rodrigo as I go into hysterics rereading every single chapter in my book of lust and love trying to accept I’ll always be a failure in love
Become medusa the minute I’m jealous, left for another or ignored and out comes my pouts about how I’ve been so wrong I become a monstrosity of absurdity as I distort reality but really, none of it was really that deep all these men were silly passing up a masterpiece like me and none of the ever deserved my angry or creative energy
I wrote this poem in October of 2022 with the help of Quora.
honestly though…
what do most people not understand about borderline personality disorder? what are borderline psychopaths? can you trust someone with borderline personality disorder? can someone who has bpd have empathy and feel bad for what they have done? does a borderline individual ever had a hard time getting over someone or can they easily forget? what is borderline personality rage? what hurts a person with BPD? why is borderline personality so contradictory? do people with BPD act normal to everyone except the person they’re splitting on? are people with BPD childlike ? can unconditional love treat borderline disorder? does a person with bpd make their partners go crazy? how do borderlines show they love you? do borderlines ever find happiness, hope or a genuine connection? what does a bpd episode look like? should someone with BPD ever disclose that to a potential mate? when do relationships with PwBpd start to fall apart? are borderline psychotic? can borderline disorder be cured?
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way thatthey almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow. **This poem went through heavy edits in June of 2026.
Often men want this girl…the ones that’s always down for a “good” timeBUT run away from this one….the other girl …the vulnerable one that has a realness hard to accept
Tell me I’m beautiful, tell me I’m sexy Objectify me, sleep with me breadcrumb me, ghost me, then try to come back to me And when I deny you insult me, threaten me,try your best to hurt me- Your words mean nothing to me You’re not the first but will be the last who tries to destroy me You’re not the first but will be the last who treats me like your on call whore You’re not the first but will be the last who tells me I’m not good enough and after all that, try to come back again and Tell me you miss, tell me you want me Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you LOVE ME Be persistent in your quest in trying to bed me with empty promises about how this time it will be different and how we have history so I can laugh and laugh and turn you down and watch you sulk honey, I know you watch me on social media so you should know better than to ever come back to me
the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor Failure after failure Were any of them worth the effort? Was the experience worth the suffering? Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry and the growth I’ve had Still, that doesn’t seem like an adequate answer
I breathe grief in, I exhale grief out my pain needs a way out because despair and sorrow fill up my lungs and anger sits at the bottom of my stomach and I’m tired of living like this a life full of emotional intensity And supposedly there’s a cure for it with therapy and radical acceptance but how do I accept that every man who’s ever professed his love to me always leaves Will my romantic misfortune one day end? or am I destined to repeat the same story of abandonment over and over again?
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards everytime I start to believe in love it never works out Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction and i try and try again only always to have the same ending and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me to endure another love failure someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind about me on a whim the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief
my beloved LA is under siege the place that saw my immigrant child self grow, and learn English the place my parents decided to make their new home the place with tastiest hot dogs at culver city mall
my beloved LA is under siege and all I can do is watch the carnage be livestreamed and I’m transported once again to the L.A riots in 1992 when I was 11 and violence and madness was a stone’s throw away from our small apartment while mami pretends nothing’s happening as she cooks dinner and we’re all glued to the TV
my beloved LA is under siege and I couldn’t be prouder of my people standing loud and with a firm grip of love and justice for the most vulnerable of us whose only crime was to come this country in search for a better life
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
putting in bold letters I support ICE in your facebook profile pic I quickly unfriended yours and your husband’s joint facebook account the one created after he stepped out on you and karma was served to you for being a homewrecker several years ago the one created to keep tabs on him so he wouldn’t do it again and as I write this, I almost laugh hysterically because of course it makes sense that you support Trump, ICE, and everyone who wants to destroy and rips rights away from everyone who’s not white and straight After all, didn’t you yourself tear a family apart? so it makes perfect sense also I always wondered who the other woman was from your hateful vitriol of immigrants and latinas she must be one hell of a Latina who almost took your man
from my favorite movie “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”
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 punish the men in my life with silence I learned it from my mom she’d last days without saying a word to my dad after a fight always waited until he broke down and apologized she always needed to win and while I’m not as brutal as her I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening they’re ask a million questions why they’ll search answers in between the lines of the posts I write and if they’re smart enough and get the hint, they’ll stay away from me
the empty wineglass sits at the edge of the coffee table after I’ve written another poem about you it needs to be refilled so my mind gets tired of being inspired by the memory of you
