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
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
I was never the marrying kind Don’t know why I forced myself into that line Maybe because of society’s expectations I made marriage my destination But it wasn’t really who I ever was Forever is not meant to be in my book of love But still I tried for seven years And by year 7, I ran into my biggest fear I felt trapped in a cage of my own making Happiness, contentment, and authenticity I was faking But it was never truly me Living this suburban reality And one day I wanted to sleep forever My mind collapsed from society’s pressure to continue this facade of being the perfect wife With my perfectly imperfect life My authenticity I had to put aside I’m a wife and mother of three There’s no such thing as being free But these were the lies I told myself The critic in me I learned to quell I learned I could be a mother but not a wife My husband took our relationship’s demise in stride There would no more anniversaries We were done with self imposed forgeries And a new chapter started with us One full of laughter, friendship and familial love
Why did you break our romantic ties? What did she have to make you leave me suddenly? Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story, of finding myself the woman used and scorned? I’m fucking exhausted with rage always making the same mistake over and over again giving all of my myself to another confused man who leaves me when I’m no longer easy
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. Iguess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
December 9, 2010
He forgot our 8 year anniversary I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter. Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced. There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears Over something that would end soon. There was no use in feeling devastated over Something that never should have happened. Vows that should never have been taken. Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning. Empty words that were never believed in. 8 years of marriage; an institution we thought would bind us for eternal life. So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect wouldn’t break us apart. He forgot our 8 year anniversary Just like he forgot all of his promises to “Try harder” or “to change” So I wouldn’t leave. He forgot our 8 year anniversary. And it’s fine. You don’t celebrate something That is already dead.
You left me in an eternal darkness Without any compassion, without any humanity You caused me an infinite pain with your malicious and false ways You left me in a world of insecurity How can I trust ever again? But I promise you thing you’ll remember me After our painful parting You had it all with me And now there’s no way To recover my love With a unique and ardent warmth
I wrote this in January of 2018 when me and my starter husband had opened up our relationship. The person “B” who inspired this poem was the first guy I was with after this transition. It’d be the first of unstable whateverships/relationships from that year that would restart this unhealthy pattern. This poem is also a perfect example of my black and white thinking. I idealized my husband and devalued the other person. I also felt guilt and shame sleeping with someone else who wasn’t my husband even though we were in an open relationship.
me in 2018 around the time I wrote this poem
I’m disappointed once again -being here with you You represent everything I thought I wanted But- You don’t compare to him You make my body sing with kisses but don’t sweep up the mess that I am You give me pleasure but can’t handle my pain You are there to fuck me but never to rescue me SO I choose him Who chooses to be there for me When I chase for death in a bathtub or a bottle Because while sex and lust feels good When it’s happening It doesn’t compare to the love and support he’s provided in keeping me alive So I say goodbye to a life Full of lust filled fantasies and accept the one and only who truly cares for me
So I had forgotten to post this poem from the great breakup of 2001.
haha…it be like that sometimes
I guess it was fate For you to cross that thin line Between love and hate You were really a waste of time Now you’ll never know How good you and me could’ve been Or how much I really loved you so But your love was only a smoke screen I even thought we had forever because I wanted to believe you were true but I guess you were another whatever and I was another one you’d screw Now there’s nothing left to say and it’s time to forget everything
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.
me in 2017 around the time I wrote this poem
Simple decency is becoming extinct Manners and politeness is rare rudeness and sarcasm is the norm Being kind feels outdated in this narcissistic society filled with superfluous and superficial people Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes everywhere There is no escape from this epidemic of the nothingness that tries to appear profound It is a society that blames the victim “ but what was she wearing?” or “He was hanging out with the wrong kids” It is a society that’s prejudiced against anyone different “Go back to where you came from” “You’ll never belong here” “People will always remember how you made them feel”, Maya Angelou said Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone Is how this world makes me feel I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself to this world full of shallow feelings I miss the kind and real people in this world It’s rare to find them now They are almost extinct
In anticipation of the night I was excited to see you But then we met And the look you gave me said it all without saying anything at all I had warned you I had changed But you refused to believe it and held onto an idealistic image of me in your head Worthless small talk ensued Even though there was nothing left to say Your body language screamed: “Get the fuck away from me” But a small trickle of hope cemented my feet to the ground next to you And then a sorry excuse trickled from your lips And you left me stranded that night
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from thiseven if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it: