Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Remorseful Sentiments
de nuevo arruine todo
no fue mi intención-siempre empiezo tan bonito
pero por alguna razón siempre destruyo mi paraiso de amor
Está vez él no podía esperar para libersarse de mi-
será que en realidad soy demaciado
o los hombres que escojo no son suficiente?
Escribí este poema en Mayo del 2022.
Siempre soñé con un amor profundo e incondicional
un amor que se quedaría en lo bien y en lo mal
Y pensé que ese amor no mas podría encontrarlo
en un hombre
un hombre que se moriría por mi
que me aguantaria todo
y me hiciera sentir
como la mujer más bella del mundo
pero aprendí con el tiempo
que eso es un sueño inalcanzable
que eso es un sueño imposible
Y un dia me di cuenta
Que el amor que buscaba siempre vivió dentro de mi
Y nunca necesite a alguien que me enseñara que era amar
o como amar
Porque el amor verdadero y duradero
es el amor que yo siento por mi
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: Three Years Too Late
ahora recién reconoces tu error y me pides disculpas
ahora recién decides enfrentar el dolor que generaste
al negar la existencia de nuestro hijo
ahora recién quieres desempeñar tu papel de padre
después de tu desgraciada ausencia de tres años
esperando que te perdone como si nada paso
lo siento, pero vete de aquí–
el no necesita a un infeliz en su vida
que nunca pudo dar la cara por el
que prefiero esconderlo y olvidarlo por tres años
que quiere usarlo para limpiar su conciencia
para sentirse mejor
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I’m finally free from the chains of love
I felt truly a slave to it
Thinking I needed it, thinking I wanted it
But the truth is
the only person I ever needed was me
I never needed anyone else to care for me,
to love me
it’s always temporary until they leave
Today marks my independence day
from love’s heavy and terrible weight
Because I am worth more than another fickle soul
Who I always become too much for
Because I deserve a sense of emotional stability
After so many emotional scars caused by love
I’m used to being the ultimate pushover-
allowing the energy of others to pollute
my energy and take up my time
It was the people pleaser in me who needed to fawn
be easy to get along with and always avoiding conflict,
I’d become the person they’d want me to be,
cutting away pieces of my authenticity-
I’d become easy to digest and swallow
I never valued myself or put myself first
It was learned martyrdom from the women in my family
Internalized misogyny sold to me at a young age
dressed up as selfless acts of love
but I’m done sacrificing myself for others
It’s time to unlearn this toxic way of loving and being
I refuse to pass this down to the next generation
of woman who come after me
I’m here to take up space, roar like a lioness
and pass down a new legacy of self love
that took me 41 years too long to discover
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
She’s soft and submissive, kind and generous
She’ll do anything for love, she’s loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
She’ll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/03/numb/
nada me fascina, nada me emociona
siento un vacio dentro de mi
que no se puede llenar
mi mami me dice “échale ganas”
pero quiero rendirme a mi depresion
y nunca despertar
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Some days I can’t deal with the boredom and restless
It all leads to chronic feelings of emptiness
And I asked myself
Is it time for another depression spell?
And I’m annoyed by me, by everything
I attend to whatever I think my brain and my soul needs
Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s sunshine
Sometimes it’s writing
Sometimes nothing appeases the Gods of BPD
And I just to deal with my emotional instability
I wish for at least a week of tranquility within
Instead of a pendulum of ever changing mood swings
When will I finally get calm and peace?
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Old insecurities come to visit me again,
they shake up my newly acquired confidence
they tell me I’m not smart enough and I’ll never be truly loved
They tell me the only thing I have going for me is how sexy I can be
Otherwise I’m a waste of a person because of my bpd
And I try to shut it all down and not once again drown
Because I have made so much progress and have come so far
Only to once again fight an anxiety and depression war
but it’s daunting and exhausting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again, trying to calm down my brain
from negative and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self-love
I wrote this in May of 2022.
Overturning my right to choose feels like a slap to my face
it is my american dream of liberty turned into a nightmare
of reproductive imprisonment
because of my 3 unplanned pregnancies, because of my 4 IUDs
birth control pills and a patch
because I am a woman scared for my niece, for my future granddaughters
scared for the generations of women who come after me
and I sit here at a complete loss for words and understanding
at a loss for how this could happen
a fundamental right ripped from right before our eyes
while we were distracted with the modernity of society
a fundamental right ripped from us that will take us back to the 1950’s
I’m constantly working without any breaks or any hints of rest
because I thrive on being productive
I’m happiest when I’m filled with purpose
and I don’t stop because it keeps me moving forward
it keeps me from not feeling anything
but at what cost?
my hips and knees scream at me
and I’m addicted to energy drinks
my mind tells me to slow down, rest,
and process my emotions
but I’d rather keep hustling, keep moving
rather than to deal with the intensity of my feelings
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
People say I shouldn’t give up on love
and it’s really just my bad luck
But how do I explain
How love makes me insane
It’s not the men I pick
It’s really me, me, me
I’ll become the version they want me to be
thinking they’ll stay with me-
behave, swallow my words, hide my anger,
implode on myself in the privacy of my journal
but keep my mask of sweet princess on-
but this never last for long
something always happens
it’s just a matter of when
when will I get tired of hiding who I am
and start being erratic and crazy
When will they get tired of my bullshit
and decided to leave
and almost always, this ends up
as an emotional catastrophe for me
so I’ve come up with a solution
I’m going to make my newfound solitude
a haven, a sanctuary to fall into
give myself as much time as I need
to enjoy the gift on my own company
understanding that this isn’t an ending
but rather a brand new beginning for me
to write and edit my own unconventional love story
I wrote this poem in May of 2022 inspired by this “woke” white woman. Lol.
you’re nothing but a selfish and narcissistic attention whore
constantly craving the limelight
by posting long and stupid ridden Facebook statuses
about the “truth” of the injustice you see
injecting yourself as the voice of minorities
it all unveils your world of deep seated insecurities
and the irony of all of this is should you know better
since you’re a therapist
but apparently you’re still dumb as fuck
It doesn’t matter how many degrees you have-you still reek of ignorance
I wrote this poem in May 2022.
I’d rather live in music, daydreams, and fantasies
than face the monotony and routine of real life
who wants to deal with spreadsheets
when I can get lost in dreams about finding the one
who wants to answer to karen’s idiotic questions
when I got taylor swift on repeat
who wants to open and read another email
about another stupid workplace policy
when I can fantasize about the best sex
I had the a few nights ago
real life is too boring for me
when I have music, daydreams, and fantasies
waiting to inspire the writer in me
Escribí este poema en Mayo del 2022.
Distraída, distraída, distraída
siempre fui así
porque la fantasía siempre es mejor
que la realidad
porque necesitaba escapar la durez de mi vida
vivir en sueños es mejor que vivir la vida
que muchas veces me dejan rota y triste
con las desgracias que me pasan
distraída, distraída, distraída
siempre sere asi mientras tengo vida en mi
Life on the BPD 