This was my response to prompt #3: Three good things
Coffee, music, and books are what I need to get through the dreariest of days Coffee to wake me up from my somber mood Music to feel every single feeling in my body and maybe try to dance them all out Books to calm down my most intrusive of thoughts Coffee,music, and books are what I need to make myself shiny again
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.
Simple decency is becoming extinct Manners and politeness is rare rudeness and sarcasm is the norm Being kind feels outdated in this narcissistic society filled with superfluous and superficial people Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes everywhere There is no escape from this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 in 2009 when I was feeling contemplative about life.
The horizon stretches out before me In a limitless manner I see a future but am unsure Of which path to walk towards Everything is a blank slate to me Undefined by my indecision The moment I choose Is the moment I’ll become Something, anything Than the nothingness That I am
The horizon stretches out before me Offering everything and nothing Offering this or that Offering a wasted life Or a meaningful one
The horizon stretches out before me And I need to stop My hesitation And become a person of actions And do something, anything So the horizon is not wasted
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:
This another poem inspired about the great breakup of 2001. I probably wrote this when it first happened. My sense of reality is shook up after a break up and it feels like a never ending nightmare that I’ll never wake up from after it happens. This doesn’t happen with every break up…just the ones that really affect me.
So I wait for the phone to ring To hear you say this loneliness has all been a horrible dream So I wait for you to show up at my door To tell me you can’t stand being away from me no more So I wait for your love letter in my mailbox To begin getting back together
I wrote this poem in fall of 2005 when I was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities of being a mother, a girlfriend, a student and a worker. As usual at that time, I took on too much and was trying to be everything to everyone. One trait of BPD that I’ve carried throughout the years is over extending myself sometimes to my detriment in order to make other people happy.
I wrote this in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.
Appearances were kept well for 15 years the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs I pretended like everything was fine And yet there were ominous signs I never felt like my authentic self and always felt false I tried on this so called suburban bliss and mediocre routines but knew it just wasn’t me So I ended up in profound misery And one day I wanted to forever sleep To forget my mediocre reality I took 15 numb feeling pills one for every pseudo happy year I wanted to slip into a forever dream to never wake up to my false stability