I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
I never asked to be born, much less to be a mosaic of trauma, insanity, and creativity
I prayed many times to be normal-to be someone else
but the day came when I had to embrace the masterpiece of duality and insanity that I am
to understand not everyone will understand me
to do the best I am with the deck of cards I’ve been handed
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
Is it really so bad to assist others in ending their lives?
couldn’t it be seen as a final act of love?
to help them die with dignity and on their own terms
without machines and tubes delaying the inevitable
without anyone’s say over the little autonomy
they still have left
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
I had to give up a lot of fun things in my life
to get to integration
an alcohol dependency, a shopping addiction,
Relationships and sex-
and the last thing was energy drinks
This was all for me to become the mom my kids
always deserved
it was needed for me to meet my higher self
who makes decisions with compassion and love
Instead of out of ego
It was needed for me to start living
in the most authentic way possible
and while I could dwell on all
of the fun things I lost
I now look at it as a blessing needed for clarity
and to make space for this new version of me
who no longer hides her jagged edges
for the comfort of others
Who loves who she is and no longer
Wants to be anyone else
Who finds peace in solitude
and is no longer scared of it
my integration of self costs me many things
I was addicted to
but it was worth it for the woman I am today
for the beautiful life I’m currently living
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
google makes collages of how I’ve compartmentalize my life
throughout the years-
next to a pic of me and my ex is a pic of me and my son
then a pic of me and my friend
for a long time these realities
couldn’t exist in one frame-
it was blasphemous in my mind
for one reality to bleed into another
I never understood how this was killing my sense of identity
and inner emotional stability
That old version of me wanted everything
kids, love, sex, fun, drugs, and alcohol
to be many different people at the same time
mother, vixen, friend, basket case
and everything in between
to be accepted, to loved
and all of this compartmentalization
lead to the worst inner chaos and turmoil
It was emotional torture
I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge
until one day I had a mental breakdown
because of it
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
breathing without a hint of romance is lonely but freeing
it’s a lesson of dialectics I never wanted to learn
it’s a lesson necessary for my recovery from BPD
it’s not good or bad, it’s what I must do to get better
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
the repetitive compliments, the gross flattery about your looks
no longer works on you-
You’re one “hey beautiful” from vomiting the contents of your lunch
all of these men state the obvious-you’re pretty
And they think it’s a way to get to closer to you
but you scream, “ew” and block them
it’s nothing against them, you just no longer have the luxury
of time to waste it on this type of nonsense to even think
about entertaining them
you’re outgrown that story
I wrote this poem in November of 2020.
Releasing my fears
of the unknowns
and the what ifs
to fulfill my life’s purpose
is a challenging
I refuse to lie down
in a defeatist mode
in comfortable mediocrity
stagnant in a suburban reality
So I release my fears
to truly reach my potential
to prove to others
they were wrong
but mostly to prove
to myself that I was wrong
and I’m worthy
and I’m enough
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
The last time you ghosted me
I finally said enough and meant it
I’m not adding any energy
to something that only drains me
and makes me feel worthless
it was time to let go of our chaotic story
and embrace a new love potential
Who’ll know my wort
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
my exes are scared of me for good reason
too many times I’ve used their words,
even their emails as ammunition
in expressing myself in poetry
sometimes, it was for revenge
Many times, it was me just trying to heal
but I did warn most of them
–I’m a writer–and I’m crazy
they probably thought
“Oh how cute, a girl who writes a few verses”
they never understood how my wrath
showed up in my writing
until they leave and finally understand
they should have heeded my warning
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
out of all of the silly phases I went through
I think you’re my favorite
with you I learned to embrace the darkness within
without flinching
with you I felt a universe of pleasure
with you I never had to tone down any part of myself
with you I could truly be myself
no matter how crazy or fucked up that was
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
I’ve starved myself to make my mom, lovers, and even myself
so they’ll love and accept me
I’d go on extreme diets, skip meals,
over exercise until throwing up
and getting excited when the number on the scale
went down
and hating myself when it went up
never quite understanding there’s much more to me
than some arbitrary and unrealistic standard of beauty
I’ll never be able to attain
there’s much more to me than how I fill out a tight dress
and yet, I still check the scale every once in a while
to measure my worth
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
My favorite memory of us will be of us falling in your bathtub
and the laughter and love that ensued after-
it was almost a tragedy that ended as comedy
and it was one of our last memories
before we both decided that it was better to block each other
from each other’s universe
and while I still think of you from time to time-
it’s no longer with resentment or anger I once had
it’s with only fondness in my heart of the mess
we were together
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
The invisible chains of my mental illness try to take away my joy
and enthusiasm but I shake off my chains
and live as fully as I can
Despite my anxiety,
Despite my depression,
Despite my BPD trying to grab hold of me
I no longer allow my inner demons rob me
of the goodness that universe has to offer me
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I never loved you, you were a distraction
an escape from my suburban mommy life
I wanted to feel sexy, still young and fun
so I used you to make me feel alive
to awaken the sexy vixen in me
the one I had sacrificed when I fell in the stability
of a relationship
and now I look back on it
You did nothing wrong, you were just a scapegoat
a villain I need in my story of love and lust
to not feel shame and guilt
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
I drove on a one way street and didn’t even realize I was doing it
until a kind pedestrian pointed it out
and I was like “oh shit” and cringed at myself as I kept on driving
and my brain invoked the voice of my papi
“Idiota, estupida” and my blood pressure spiked
and I’m light headed from the embarrassment
Middle age and present me steps in quickly to fix this
I keep going and find a parking spot
and step out still flushed from the verbal beating
my inner child just took
even after I fixed my mistake
the repercussions from the shame
are still felt in my body
Life on the BPD 