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.
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.
my past is clouded in shame over secrets
that were never my responsibilities
or a burden to bear
and all to keep up appearances
that we were a normal and happy family
and normal and happy families
don’t talk about addiction or mental illness
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
I wrote this poem in November of 2019.
Your love comes and goes like the most sudden
and violent gusts of wind
I try to stay in my calm and peaceful place
But I am swept away in your chaos
that bring me to the highest mountain
of lust,intimacy, and love
I want to stay here
I want to die here
in the heaven that is your arms and your lips
But you continually push me away
You dispose of me like trash
not caring about my inner destruction
You break me heart into
millions of pieces
Everytime I try to give myself to you
Your love, your toxic love
Swallows me up and spits me up out
only to break me over and over again
I wrote this poem in November of 2023.
I hold hands with my trauma and show her off to everyone
most people look at her with curiosity
some people are horrified
my family cringes and and whispers to me,
“it’s embarrassing, showing her as some kind of trophy”
I get mad and flip everyone off
and me and my trauma link arms and skip on our way
to share her story and create drama and chaos
who cares if no one understands our process
of healing and recovery by sharing our story
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
honest nonsense is spilled across my blog
honoring who I have been, am, and will be
a former chaotic mess who’s tried her best
to turn her victim story into a narrative
of empowerment owning everything
that’s happened to me,
not caring what anyone else thinks-
if some people are offended,
they should have acted better
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I’m not for the tender and meek
and because of that I might end up
lonely for the rest of my life
and before, it used to bother me
but lately I don’t care
I’d rather be alone facing the world
and my fears without anyone
who’ll judge me or give me
his unsolicited opinion on my life
I finally hold the reins of my autonomy
and I’m not giving that up for anybody
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I give you a yard, and you give me an inch-
it’s a game of back and forth nonsense
one where I respect your unspoken boundaries
and need for space
until one day the push back from you
pulled back into a dark place I haven’t been in a while
a place where my confidence breaks, a place where I start to question my worth
a place when my sense of self breaks once again
and I know right there, and then, it’s better to give up
whatever this was
I’ve outgrown men who send me mixed signals
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I try on grace and self compassion thinking of the many times
I wanted to be someone else
Mirroring my sister and my best friends to escape from myself
never thinking I was enough-
I even tried to be like my former metamours-
so smart, so pretty, so American
they were placed on pedestals by my exes
so of course I wanted to be like them-
never understood how I never stood a chance
and how nothing I did would matter
my exes always chose them
they were safe,predictable and shared their background
everything I was never going to be
so I chose to embrace who I really am
a woman with a chaotic history who feels everything with a magnitude of intensity
a woman who no longer mirrors others to gain a sense of identity
I now stand firm in the authenticity of my duality
I embrace my God given gift of my creativity and share it shamelessly
there’s no turning back now that I’m fully me
and I no longer care who loves and accepts me
I wrote this poem in October of 2019.
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
as you dispose of me
once again
I hope this time I learn for good
that you only carry
destruction and devastation
within you
that you will never love
or care for me
that you’re a self absorbed
piece of shit
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
And I hate you
but I hate myself even more
for wasting my time and love
on someone who never
deserved it
for trying to see love
and affection that was never there
for falling in love
with a charismatic coward
I wrote this poem in September of 2021.
I looked for a sense of home,
a sense of identity
in all of the wrong
Places –
man after man
Shopping spree after shopping spree,
drink after drink
all were temporary fixes
for something I never had
a stable home, a true
sense of identity
until one day I realized
these temporary bandaids
were never or will
ever be my home
because that sense of
home, that sense of identity
lies within myself
I wrote this poem in September of 2019.
maybe this is as good as life gets
a life half lived but with few regrets
Who needs adventure and love
when you have the stability of family?
Who needs spontaneity and excitement
when you have the comfort of home?
Who needs connection and chemistry?\
when you have routine and predictability?
Maybe this is as good as life gets
A life half lived but with few regrets
Bored, bored, bored with it all
living a woman’s suburban dream of mediocrity
to want anything more
would break this so-called
domestic bliss
Life on the BPD 