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Simple decency is becoming extinct Manners and politeness is rare rudeness and sarcasm is the norm Being kind feels outdated in this narcissistic society filled with superfluous and superficial people Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes everywhere There is no escape from this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
I wrote this poem sometime around 2014 or 2015. I was feeling nostalgic about a former flame I had been obsessed with. This tends to happen a lot with me. Letting go of my past is hard at times.
I wrote this poem in 2008. One the BPD traits is feeling restless and oh my, I feel this a lot. Sometimes it’s for a few hours, sometimes it’s for a few days and I write about it.
I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.
me with my friends in 2007
I feel small in this enormous and elitist world it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit It only seems like a perfect fit for my younger, blonder, whiter, and younger counterparts Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here. Should I even try ? When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps Failure on the steps is what I feel here- a place where my browner, poorer self feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice
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:
