I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. Guess I was still mad at the rejection I felt when he ghosted me.
If I was nothing more
Than another girl
Why couldn’t you have been straight
Instead of acting in an enamored way
And made me really believe
You truly care for me
but I should have known all along
that you’d be the same jerk song
Hopefully one day I’ll learn
to stop taking all you crooked turns
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way that they 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.
Tell me I’m pretty, tell me I’m sexy
Tell me I’m beautiful
Objectify me, fuck me,
Forget about me
And then
Try to come back to me
And when I deny
your lust filled request,
Put me down, threaten me
Try 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 a doll
to fuck at your convenience
You’re not the first
But will be the last
That tells me I’m not good enough
Tell me you miss, tell me you want me
Tell me you’re sorry
Be persistent in your quest
In trying to get me in your bed
with empty promises
about how this time it will be different
Sorry to my past, my present, and
future lovers-
I am pass being the girl
that’s just used for fun-
I am pass being the lover
you never introduce to your mother
I’d rather live in a world
of solitude and calm
than to once again fall
into the objectification trap
I wrote this in December of 2002 after I had a one night stand with this dude I met in a bar and he didn’t tell me he was married. I found out a few days later when a coworker told me. I felt shame, guilt, and like a dirty whore for what happened even thought I knew that this time I was an unwilling homewrecker. It was rough.
This was a mistake
I wish I could unmake
I didn’t mean to kiss you
And I didn’t mean for us to screw
But the alcohol got to my head
That somehow led me to your bed
And now you have to understand
Our destiny has been written in the sand
You will never be the man I dream of
Who will deserve the best of my love
So now it’s about time
for you to open your eyes
What happened between you and I
Was chemistry I could no longer deny
So stop trying to interrupt my life
And just go back to your wife
Today is National Getting Over It day and I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate it than by sharing my ANGRY AF playlist. A huge part for me getting over something tragic in my life is to get angry. And when I get angry, it’s almost like a volcano eruption. This is actually pretty healthy for me because I’ve felt that at times, anger has saved me from feeling all of my sadness at once which for me can get really overwhelming right away. I can even say that Anger has probably saved me from spiraling into an abyss of sadness that would be hard to crawl out of. In other words, anger has helped me survive whatever trauma has come my way. I used to be so ashamed of being angry because of how it would turn me into the most self absorbed and reactive person. I don’t feel that way anymore because I’ve learned how to better manage my anger. Instead of drinking or hooking with random dudes because I’m angry; I exercise or write while I listen to music. Most of the songs in this list are geared more towards someone going through a breakup because that is when my anger comes out the most. Thanks, BPD. Lol. In bold are my favorite songs from this list.
For the Brokenhearted: I’m ANGRY AF Edition (the only where you scream out the lyrics):
Below are links to the playlist for your listening pleasure:
Me and Valentine’s Day have a history – well a sordid kind of history full of trauma and drama. Since I can remember I’ve always wanted a Valentine Day where I had the perfect day with my special someone. To me that would feel like a hallmark movie. This hallmark movie would include chocolate, flowers, lots of hand holding and kissing in, romantic dinner and a grand romantic gesture from my partner. The gesture would be so thoughtful, it would make me tear up with happiness. Yes, my expectations were high on this day but hey don’t blame me – I grew up on 90s rom coms and Telenovelas. Let’s talk about my history with this day.
At 14, I was super hyped about this day because I finally had a special someone to celebrate this day with, my first boyfriend, Jude. We went to the Valentine’s Day Dance at the school where we slow danced to the most romantic 90’s songs. Picture Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey playing in the background as I feel myself falling in love. Jude even bought me a rose and unexpectedly gave me this nice sterling silver bracelet and I teared up. I felt like wow, this is so romantic and magical, is this real? Is this too good to be true? Well, ha-ha it was. A week later he broke up with me around my birthday because he realized we were better off as friends. Also, he needed the bracelet back, it has been his mom’s that he had stolen to give it to me. It would be my first taste of drama and trauma surrounding this holiday.
In my late teens and early 20s I was always single on Valentine’s Day. Because of that I would get salty as all my partnered coworkers would get flowers delivered to their office or talked about their stupid romantic plans. One day me and my close friend/coworker Mary- said fuck it, we’ll be each other’s valentine. We’ll send flowers to each other and go out to lunch. It was a great Valentine’s Day that year. We had our own kind of Galantine’s before Leslie Knope made it a thing.
After that, I was with my co-parent/roommate, and this is what I wrote about that day in 2014:
“Valentine’s Day is a waste of a day for older married couples with kids. I suppose that sounds slightly bitter and biased based on my own experiences. I don’t ever remember my parents celebrating Valentine’s Day and they’re still married. So much importance and consumerism is given to this particular day it makes one wonder -how did we as a society eat up all the hype concerning this particular holiday and regurgitated it with “oh so much love, kindness, flowers, chocolates, cards, etc.” The world would be a much better place if love and kindness was practiced more often. It could be part of the new movement called “love and kindness” awareness and it could be marketed with T shirts, pins, and don’t forget the Bumper Stickers” Somehow I think this already happens with the movement “make America kind again” after the last brutal election. Anything can be marketed and consumable by the masses if it makes them feel good about themselves. And that’s why Valentine’s Day is still such a big deal. People that celebrate “their love” can now prove their awesome love by snapchatting or instagraming that shit. Valentine’s Day is just another symptom of the curse of consumerism. `
I was obviously very bitter and jaded when I wrote this. To be fair to my coparent/ roommate, he did try his best some years to fulfill my unrealistic expectations of the day and well- he couldn’t. I do have to mention that one day-I was pleasantly surprised that he bought me a coach perfume, I mentioned wanting it as a joke. I didn’t think he would get it for me, but he did.
In 2018 we opened our marriage and started hooking up/dating dudes. I was also going through a period where my hypersexuality was very intense. I was at a social event drunk, and I got the bright idea that I needed to hook up with someone, anyone that night. So, I met this random dude at the hotel room. I met him from an app, and he had no pictures-and that was for good reason. Ugh, he wasn’t attractive at all, but I was drunk, wanted to have sex, and I was too cute to be alone on Valentine’s Day. Drunk me + hypersexuality +God Complex =no standards for hooking up. Anyways me and this guy have incredibly hot sex and he’s talking dirty. This is all normal except then he starts saying weird things like “I could picture spending my life with you” or “I can see us really falling in love” as he’s ramming me every which way. I don’t want to ruin the mood, so I just figure its weird kink and go with it. I don’t want to ruin the mood and figure, maybe this dude is just lonely or whatever. So, after we have this hot sex, we both go our separate ways. I don’t expect to hear from him. Well, the next day, he blows up my phone wanting to hook up again and I respond telling him “No, it was a onetime thing”. He responds, “we had good chemistry and I’m falling in love with you”. I responded, “I’m not looking for anything like that”. After that what follows are texts, slut shaming with every name in the book “whore, bitch, slut, while also trying to convince me that according to him “we could be so good together”:” I do call him out on his misogyny, but he doesn’t want to hear and says he doesn’t care and continues to insult me while trying to convince me to see him. I’m confused and think “wow, this happened to me as a consequence of my own actions, maybe I deserve it, Idk”. I do proceed to block him. It could have been a nice memory of hot sex of Valentine’s Day but once again it’s marked by trauma and drama. Will I ever have a nice Valentine’s Day? I just want to feel loved and be loved on that day? Why is it so hard?
Fast forward to last year, when I was in love with my recent ex, the second Andrew. That year I had all of the ingredients for my hallmark movie like Valentine’s Day, right? We celebrated V-day on Feb.13, the Saturday before it because of my hectic work schedule. It was really close to perfect. There was good food, wine, butterflies in both of our stomachs cause we’re in love, and dancing. He even makes a grand and thoughtful gesture and I’m so touched I’m almost moved to tears. This is my Hallmark real life movie. Fucking finally, right? I’m so happy and I feel so loved, I share that happiness out in the world with a tweet. Now my relationship with the second Andrew is polyamorous so I’m careful that I don’t tag him and make sure his other partner Sharon is not following me on twitter. I don’t want to hurt any feelings. I ‘m just so grateful to feel loved and be loved by this wonderful man, it’s important for me to share it out there in the world. Among everything crazy and chaotic in my life, I have this perfect memory of love. It’s almost too good to be true right, and it was, a few days later, I hear from him how Sharon’s feelings were hurt by my tweet. I told him about how I made sure that she didn’t see my tweet, but he tells me I’m accountable because my twitter is public. So, to smooth things over, I felt forced apologized for tweeting out my fucking happiness. It was great (insert sarcasm). I remember afterwards feeling this incredible sense of shame and guilt for Sharon’s feelings being hurt by my tweet and at the time I wrote in my journal, “maybe we should break up so she can have him all to herself, I don’t have the time or energy to fight for a man”. I didn’t of course but maybe I was starting to see the cracks in my relationship with the second Andrew. There is a lot more to this story about the second Andrew, but that content will be shared much later this year or next year. I could say that I wish I hadn’t been informed about Sharon’s feelings, but I’ve learned to accept that it happened, and it is what it is. It was just annoying that it was once again another Valentine’s Day followed by drama and trauma.
This year, I decided to flip the switch and rather than feeling sorry or pity for myself to for
being alone; I’m turning this day which is traumatic into a triumphant one. I have declared it my self love day where I’m my own Valentine. I’ve made it so that the only one that can ruin the day is me. Lol. My plan is to take the day off and do the following:
It looks like I’m finally getting my own romantic movie starring myself after 25 years. Except we won’t call it a Hallmark movie, it’s more of an Indie film. I will post an update on how it all went on next Valentine’s Day.
Sometimes I wonder if Paul aka my own “Jake Gyllenhaal”ever felt this.Probably not. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 19 and he was 29. He honestly had no business dating a teenager but to him I was mature for my age cause I had a kid. He loved the passion and excitement I brought at the beginning but left cause he didn’t have the emotional bandwidth at the time when I wanted to be treated as something more than an easy and convenient snack. When the “All Too Well” 10 minute version came out, I felt like whoa this song is way too relatable. And it wasn’t because of my most recent breakup; it was because of unresolved trauma from Paul. It was me revisiting a traumatic time in my life where there was a strange power dynamic with this divorced man who had tons of more life experience than I did. Also, like the “Jake” in the “All Too Well” video he was all about the “fuck the patriarchy, I love strong women vibe” UNTIL that strong woman demands to be treated better, until that strong woman holds him accountable for his actions. People may say “oh you read too much into a casual relationship” but this mutherfucker was meeting my parents and son within the first two weeks of dating me. Tell me how this looks like to an impressionable 19 year old young adult confused and looking for love.
I remembered when he brought me around his friends and it was kind of embarrassing that I couldn’t drink with them due to my age. I should have seen the first red flag when he told me that the major reason for his divorce was that his ex-wife was “crazy” and he painted himself as the victim. I should have seen the second red flag when he told me “not to fall in love with him” when we were having sex for the first time. After maybe 6 weeks, we were suppose to spend Valentine’s Day together and he never showed up.Instead of picking up the phone and letting me know he wasn’t going to make it, he sent me an email the next day with some bullshit excuse and telling me “not to be mad at him”. At 19 almost 20 years old, I had the maturity to understand that he wasn’t making me a priority when I was making him one and I had to speak up. I understood something was changing as he grew even more distant from me and I tried to accommodate to what he needed even if it hurt And then after one week, he killed me with an email. He didn’t even think I was worth a phone call.
Later on he contacted me about wanting to be friends. And I, thinking it was the mature thing to do and still wanting to please this person that I had grown attached to and cared for, accepted this offer of pseudo friendship. Yes, this dude had kill the very essence of my soul with an email (not thinking I was worth a phone call) and I was still trying to reassure his ego by remaining friends. I did this as I cried at night wondering why I wasn’t good enough. I faked this friendship as my heart was breaking wondering how I always get stuck with these confused boys whose “intentions were never to hurt me” but somehow always do in such a way that I end up losing myself. I did this as I would throw up every time after I got off the phone with him.To add insult to injury, he accused me of giving him an STD shortly even though he had also been sleeping with his ex wife ( either cheating on me or very shortly after we broke up). During the time I was with him, it was only him and I had never given him reason to think differently. Did my sexual passion or my Latinidad give him a pass to judge and slut shame me? The things he had gone crazy over suddenly transformed me into a whore in front of his eyes. I handled that whole situation with grace, went to get tested for his peace of mind, was slut shamed by the nurse who did the testing. Still remained in contact with him and yes, this friendship was just a ruse to have access to sex with me again if things didn’t work out with his ex wife. I found out months later when he asked me to dinner and we slept together. I remember feeling disgusted and ashamed of myself cause I felt nothing and very numb the entire time we had sex in the parking lot of a church (yes-he was a super classy guy-lol). After that, he disappeared. It feels like a life time ago and yet a few of those unhealthy patterns emerged again in my love life in October of that same year (“S” aka the great breakup of 2001) and in other relationships throughout my adult life. Lol. I wish I could say that the chapter of Paul ended after he disappeared but it didn’t.
He messaged me through myspace sometime around 2005 even though he was married at the time. Me, trying to be polite chatted with him for a couple of weeks. In March of 2020, he also messaged under the ruse of friendship and as we were chatting he sends this message:
I hadn’t talked to him since April of 2020 BUT I didn’t feel closure from this situation so I reached out to him on November 14th of this year and sent him this message:
After sending this message, I proceeded to block him. And honestly, I felt this great sense of relief and closure. It really bothered me that I didn’t stand up for myself at the time and he basically got away feeling like he was a “good or nice guy” in the situation and I let him continue to objectify me out of the facade of being polite. I will also say that while revisiting this was traumatic; it made me also reflect something. For example, how reactive I am when certain similar situations in my life have occurred. If I feel slut shamed, judged or objectified; I explode in a fit of anger and rage. I don’t do this all of the time because I’ve learned to ignore and process those situations in a healthy manner, however, if my emotional bandwidth isn’t there, LOOK OUT! That being said, as weird as it sounds, I’m glad that I got I revisit this traumatic experience in my life because I needed to truly heal from it and closure. Also, I don’t plan to reach out like this to all of my exes, I have mostly healed and gotten closure from most of my breakups; but I do have to say that certain relationships have marked me and there are certain unhealed parts of those relationships I haven’t healed from that need to be addressed. This might look like reaching out to them or writing a blog or another poem about them.
I hope you know that YOU really shouldn’t think about dating me unless you want me to write loads and loads of sad and angry breakup poetry about you once you leave. Just kidding. Maybe. LMAO Anyways, here is another salty poem about the great breakup of 2001.
I hope you know you made a mistake
The day you decided to go astray
You have just lost the best thing
It’ll get under your skin
And you will one day regret
The day you decided to forget
It was just supposed to be about me and you
And you’ll feel like such a damn fool
For I’ll never let you walk back into my life
Knowing you made love to me with your disgusting lies
I hope you’re miserable with her
and karma comes for you and her
and for me you’ll just be another nightmare
Maybe I am the girl version of Joe Goldberg after all. LMAO. Of course, this was written about the great breakup of 2001.
Maybe I am sad
finding out you were such a cad
Maybe I am blue
Knowing you were never true
Maybe I was too blind to see
you weren’t really into me
Maybe I was a fool
To never have seen past your bull
Maybe I am done
With guys like you using me for fun
Maybe just maybe I can get past all this
Knowing one day you’ll have to pay for this
I wrote this in December 2001 after seeing my ex “S” from the “great breakup of 2001”. I saw him at mall while I was shopping. I remember not being able to breathe and having to get out of there.
I was minding my own business
when I came upon your ugly face
I started right away to get restless
Thinking how you had been such a fucking waste
I hope you didn’t notice
How I had forgotten to breathe
How the memory of your kiss
Came back to me
That’s when I had to turn around and leave
This was the second poem I wrote in December of 2001 inspired after seeing my ex “S” at the mall. I was still feeling all of those raw emotions after this breakup when I wrote this. Looking back on it, I’m glad that at the time, I took my emotions out on paper instead of finding other means of escape with alcohol or someone else.
There you were
In front of me
My love murderer
I wanted to yell and scream
and say
You are the most deceitful, lying, scum king
I wanted to throw at you my fist
with all my might
And punch those lips I had once kissed
I wanted to kill you with a look
that said
You bastard, look at how much you took away from me
Instead, I had to walk away
and take back with me
All I wanted to do or say
I wrote this in 2001 about the great breakup. Looking back at this I almost BUT I’m glad that at the time I was resourceful enough to turn to write poetry instead of doing more self destructive things. My favorite phrase from my 20 year old self is “low scum ho”. Damn, I was salty. LMAO.
Thank you for letting me know
I was with some low scum ho
Thank you for making me see
He was just using you and me
Thank you for making me realize
My lover was just telling me lies
Thank you for driving me into this misery
I really thought he cared for only me
But most of all,
Thank you for taking this burden off me
he didn’t deserve someone as good as me
This is yet another poem inspired by the great breakup of 2001. Most likely, I wrote this poem right after it happened as I still raw processing what happened.
Big Lie
I was stubborn
and I got burned
by not believing
that you were deceiving
there were many signs
but my heart refused to resign
it didn’t want to conceive of the notion
that your love was a distortion
now I sit in disbelief
at how wrong you done me
I’m so much better off I know
even though it’s almost impossible to let you go
so it’s forever goodbye
to your twisted love that was a big lie
This was another poem written in early 2001 about Paul. All I can say is that at least I didn’t go on to write more than a few poems about this breakup. I probably wrote this during the time we were attempting a “pseudo friendship”. I remember getting nauseated and sick every time after I got off the phone with him. This really was the last poem I wrote about him.
Upset, angry, frustrated
Are some of the things I feel
When I come in contact with
Your miserable self
Depressed, miserable, pessimistic
is what I’ve become
You walked away
Happy, gleaming, glowing
is what you are
your miserable piece of scum
It’s unfair,unjust, not right
That fate led me to someone
Who would cause me so much raw pain
Another poem I wrote about the great breakup of 2001. Who knew that more than 20 years later, it would just be great blog content. Lol.
Why did you have to be
so painful for me?
Why did it take me so long
To find out you were doing me so wrong
Why did you have to such a waste
And leave my mouth with such a bitter taste
Why did you have to put on such a good show
I still can’t believe somebody could stoop so low
Why did you have to make my heart so sore
I don’t think i can stand the pain anymore
Why did you have to show up
And be such a damn fuck up
I wrote this about my friend Sam after I found out that he tried to sleep with my sister. I was furious after this happened but it was also kind of funny. So Sam put the moves on my poor recently separated and vulnerable sister. Well–according to my sister, when they were getting to the good part, his equipment wouldn’t work. At all. Haha. This is the last of the poems about Sam. He does make an appearance in my life in either 2018 or 2019 when I looked him up on Facebook and impulsively messaged him. Surprisingly, he responded but nothing came of it. I think that while the idea of him seemed nice, putting that much effort again into a former fuckboy didn’t feel worth it all.
I thought you should be told
that you are a pathetic asshole
You will never go anywhere
By not playing fair
You have no fucking respect
I wish we had never met
How could you lie to me?
Can’t you see
I thought we were friends
But now you’ve become my fiend
I hope I never hear your fucking voice
Or see your fucking face
I wish you unhappiness
and many years of misery
Life on the BPD 