I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we can’t forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder what’s so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws
I can never compete
With a lifetime of love, of memories
Of him knowing her
Even when she breaks his heart
Over and over and over again
Even when I let him break mine
Over and over and over again
It’s a vicious cycle of love, heartbreak, and regret
A cycle where I continue to break my own heart
Because I will never be pretty or skinny
Like her
I will never be enough!
There is a border around you
Cemented with callousness
Every now and then
I see glimpses of good-
Within you
But only on the nights
When you are drunk and lonely
Only the nights
When you want my skin
To cover yours
You give me orgasms
And sweet compliments
And fill me up with lies-
And the day after
Your border is closed
Its impenetrable
So hard to break through
So hard to keep loving you
So I give up
Every time I TRY
To chisel a little at it
My heart hurts
and breaks a little more
So I”ll stop trying to break through
No matter how happy you make me
For a few hours
You’re not worth
Days, weeks, and months
Of misery
Again and again and again
-I let you back in
You take me in passionately
and intensely
And without thinking
I’m back in your arms
And for the briefest of moments
I believe you love me
Loneliness makes one blind
To the sad reality
You just like the convenience of my hips
Lust makes one blind
To the hard truth
You just like to use
The warmth of my body
To covers yours
At your leisure
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
I look forward to the day when I’m no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when I’m no longer dependent on my ex husband
and antipsychotics to survive
when I finally start to resemble something like a normal person
and not the vehement emotional mess I usually am
Unsurvivable
I wanted you but
God wanted you more
Perhaps you were an angel
not meant for earth
Perhaps you were a hard a lesson
in grief and loss
That I needed to learn
A lesson that I should never take
love and hope for grant
No matter how brief the stay is
A lesson that your heart
can break within a span
of a few minutes
A lesson in surviving
what you think is unsurvivable
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside
for someone else
even as I’m crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
I’ve carried into my middle age
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
shadows of summer’s past came and haunted me
in dreams, in my most intrusive of thoughts
every summer tragedy comes to the surface
in spring
not allowing me to enjoy the may flowers
that are blooming
not allowing the visual poetry of spring
happening right in front of me
panic attacks, crying spells, dissociative episodes
bursts of anxiety and nightmares
that deprive me of sleep, leaving me in a haze
of despair followed by depression
and I end up in a fog of exhaustion I can’t
seem to get rid of
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
he can say anything because of his pretty privilege
I don’t know a woman alive who wouldn’t sleep with him
6’7, blonde hair, blue eyed norse God with silly rhymes
I’d be his working class Peruvian version of Sofia Vergara
Get rid of my empowered Incan Goddess persona
and become sweet and submissive just for him
get wrapped up figuratively and literally in gravy magic
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12321
no me puedo pasar desapercibida en esta mundo privilegiado
edad equivocada. apellido equivocado, etnicidad equivocada
sintiéndome destinada para fracasar en esta universidad
mientras que la presión para triunfar cuelga
como una soga sobre mi cuello
pero no me doy por vencida
y me presento todos los días
si solamente para darle una enseñanza a mis hijos
a como seguir adelante cuando quieres renunciar
What’s something most people don’t understand?
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “small”
can’t blend in with this privileged world
wrong age, wrong last name, wrong ethnicity
I stand destined for failure
on this institutions steps
as the pressure to succeeds hang around me
like a noose around my neck
and yet I still keep going
and show up every day
if only to teach my kids a lesson
in how to keep going when you want to quit
I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007 when I was depressed.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12220
agujas agudas de agonía penetra mi mente y cuerpo
me siento super debil
cubierta en una frazada de derrota
Life on the BPD 