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
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
there are days I don’t feel strong enough to be their mom
maybe it’s insecurity that weighs heavily on me
after every fight, after every conflict
it was easier when they were small
and I was their favorite person
the one they ran to the moment I opened the door
nowadays I work much and they have their own interests
to have much to do with me
nowadays they bring up grievances of everything
I’ve done and am doing wrong
is this karma for being a bad daughter to my mom
is this karma for being selfish and self absorbed
for a few years of their lives
Who knows-
maybe it’s not about being strong, being right,
or being respected
maybe it’s about them knowing they are loved
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
ramen 3 times a day in the dingy 2 bedroom duplex
and it was an upgrade from the miniature apartment
in mid city L.A
the one where there was a bullet hole in my window
so what if the stripper and the landlord’s son
got in screaming matches
so what if the marine next to us beat his wife
weekly for her infidelity
despite the poverty experienced, despite the trashy
and toxic domestic energy
that dingy duplex was freedom to me and my family
it was hope and salvation from the nightmare
of indentured servitude L.A had been
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
any idea or notion of romance is lost to me
I’ve tried every which way to make myself appetizing
edible for men to take interest in me, love me
but the story always turns sour
and I’m tired of rejection followed by bouts
of tears and insanity
this spring I will not spend my energy
trying to manifest another fool I’ll get obsessed about
or get caught up in my head and daydreams
this spring I’m going to concentrate
only on my potential that’s yet to bloom
Focus of the world of creativity
that resides within waiting to get out
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “fence”
for a while you were an a puzzle to me
always so mysterious
always so guarded
never talked about your past
even as I overshared my trauma
and while it got tiring
I still kept on trying to get you to open up
my mami didn’t raise a quitter
but nothing I did ever worked
you could never bring yourself
to be vulnerable
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
before I knew who I was
I used to be oh so charming to men
always agreeing with them,
mirroring their interests,
stroking their egos and other things
and giving them easy access to me
I never used much discernment in this
my standard were 3000 leagues under the sea
So I allowed any mediocre joe who showed me
the least bit of attention into my universe
and I allowed this to happen for 26 years
making myself fodder for these mediocre and insecure joes
who left the minute I show then a bit of the fire I held within
and everytime they left, I was destroyed
and like a tarot’s fool I keep repeating this nonsense
until a few years ago, I had enough
when the last of the joes
said I was too much for him
and it was the final straw
that broke my romantic girl spirit
for a while I was touch and go with my sanity
but I rose and rose like the Peruvian diosa I had always been
and in horror I realized laying in bed with mediocrity
only damaged me, it was time to change this narrative
and slowly I recovered from the latest love tragedy
and starting writing my own love story
one where alone I’m enough and the protagonist
and never again have to tone down who I am
or hide the fire and magic that resides in me
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport
fast castellano coming from everyone
with cumbia in the background
machu picchu advertisements everywhere
my mind is trying to process everything in real time
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors
land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9
and didn’t fully appreciate it
happy and completely elated
euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones
to my skin
I never thought I’d see it again
poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
my beloved Perú
the land I left without consent
the land I was taught to menospreciar
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you
mi tierra-once again
this poem is inspired by the 2006 poem “frustrating”
not even a year has passed
and there’s an ocean between us
desire and passion once shared
evades us
as we fall into an oblivion
of obligations and routine
here’s the Spanish version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11875
petrified, frustrated, and stagnated
drowning in a sea of disillusionment
thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear
“come with me and your pain will disintegrate”
and the temptation to follow him is great
I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane
world
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
Copy and paste, copy and paste, copy and paste
Partners, unhealthy love patterns, delusions of love
it happens over and over again
And I try my best to change this narrative
and sometimes it seems to work
but most of the time it was me denying what’s in front of me
A man who treats me like his inferior
Allowing him to step on my boundaries
trying to keep myself small enough so he doesn’t leave
and I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened to me
And I’m fucking tired of it
So I put a pause on love for a while
Until I can figure out how to produce healthy love energy
And ensure I don’t settle again for anyone
who treats me less than the majestic and magical queen that I am
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me
Life on the BPD 