I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
while I’ve been obsessed with everything that has gone wrong with my life
I’m learning to finally acknowledge everything that went right
always been blessed to have a community of friends
who loved and accept me as the crazy and creative mess that I have always been
for that I am most grateful to the universe
the ultimate gift of friendship
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
the future of me is not written yet
I have to understand that
all I can do is write for her
who will still question her existence
or why things happened the way they did
or what the fuck happened to her
I know myself too well
it doesn’t matter how far I’m in my self discovery journey
I’ll always have questions
Its my insatiable curiosity
I can only hope that the future me has leaned into self love
More than ever before and still understands
she and her kids are her top priorities
Anyone else is expendable in her little universe of love
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
I listen to the universe without a hint of defiance
I listen carefully and with intention
to understand my next blessing
and the message is, continue to be vulnerable
with the world
you’re leaving a blueprint for the next one
keep leaning into your craziest and most authentic self
there’s someone somewhere who’s paying attention
and may be falling in love with you one poem at a time
but too scared to make a confession
Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
in front of our fireplace we remember who we once were
the unhealed and unhealthy versions of ourselves who met
And threw caution to the wind and fell in love
Built our own sanctuary of intimacy
only to give in to our insecurity and fears
and sabotage it all years later and tear it all down
and while we’ve said
It needs to be left in the past
it’s not who we are anymore
We both live with the hidden fear
One or both of us will break again
And brings a war of words
back to our newly constructed universe of love
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t in my plans for self improvement
But I fell for you in spring
I don’t even know when it started to happen
All I remember is absolutely hating it
hated how soft and corny it made me
hated how I started smiling at your messages
hated how you started to melt my jadedness about love
and how I finally felt like love was a possibility for me
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
by the fireside I fall in love again and this time I’m sure
because before I met him I knew I was enough
before I met him I knew I was complete
before he was even a thought in my mind
he knew all about me
before I knew anything about him
he’s read my poetry
and nothing I’ve written scares him
to him I’m more than a pretty girl
to him I’m more than my diagnosis
to him I’m more than my chaotic past
because unlike the others, he sees my humanity
he sees my perseverance and resilience
and to him, I’ve become his everything
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
1)don’t try to change me
2)don’t try to save me
3)don’t put me up on an altar
4)don’t try to dim my light
5)don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it
6)don’t get mad when I make you into my muse
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
This time I feel like I’ve finally settled most of my soul’s score
by doing so much inner work
I still have toxic and angry moments but they no longer consume me
This year I’m manifesting a new kind of love energy
Someone who can match my wild and creative energy
Someone who values me as a whole person
and doesn’t just fall in lust with my body
Someone brave enough to love me and doesn’t scare easily
when I’m challenging and moody
this year I’m opening myself to love energy
who makes me laugh, who inspires me
I think I’m finally ready
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
1. I got a good night’s sleep and feel recharged
2. Put on music on Alexa and dance my way to the bathroom to get ready
3. Coffee and breakfast include bacon, over easy eggs
4. Writing, writing, writing while listening to my playlist
5. Reading time
6. Fun time with my boys
7. Writing, writing, writing
8. Tacos for lunch , maybe friend time
9. Writing, Writing , writing
10. A mindless show on Netflix
11. Steak dinner with wine
12. Reading time
13. My head hits the pillow, and I fall asleep immediately
my granddaughters will love me even as they rolls their eyes at me-
as I try to awkwardly relate to their slang and taste in music-
they’ll be like “abue-that’s so special”
and while I’ll know what they’re trying to say
I’ll annoy them even more out of spite or to make them laugh
my granddaughters will appreciate that I’m not like other grandmas
I wrote the poem above a year ago thinking about what kind of grandmother I’d be. One thing is for sure, I won’t be like my mom who goes above and beyond her role of mamacita and is the most wonderful grandmother to mine and my siblings kids. I’ll be different but in a fun way. If I’m blessed/cursed to live a very long life (which could happen because my grandparents on my maternal side have lived past their 90s), I want to be like my grandparents who had a very good quality of life until the end. I want to be as active as possible in my old age.
I also envision myself as a storyteller with my granddaughters gathered around me as I tell them about the olden days before the internet or when we had to take our pictures to the photo place to get them developed. I want to be as candid as possible with them about my misadventures in life and love so maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes and learn to have grace with themselves when they make mistakes. I want to be a safe space for my granddaughters when they have problems. I also want to be like my great-great-grandmother Mercedes who still smiled for the camera in her old age while holding her beer in her hand.
It would also be kind of ironic if I did live to my 90s and beyond, considering how I’ve been romanticizing death since I was 15. However, at the end of the day, I do love being alive on most days and do try my best to be as healthy as possible to live a long live to annoy my loved ones, especially my granddaughters. I’m kind of excited to see what technological advances I’ll live to see. Like, will AI become part of our everyday existence? I mean, it already is part of mine with Alexa waking me up every day. Will men, gasp, finally do their part and take birth control pills instead of leaving it up to women to take responsibility? Will there be a magic pill for PMDD for future generations of women who can take it so they don’t go to crazy town every month? Will the internet read your algorithms so hardcore they erase any vestiges of anyone you have a falling out with from your phone/social media? I’m not sure if any of these questions will be answered, but it would be great if some of them were.
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I’m tired of same repetitive compliments
You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying”
you’re BEAUTIFUL
but never in my life
have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent,
or have I been told that I inspire poetry?
and old lonely me would entertain
these flimsy lust or love possibilities
kept my standards low to keep my bed warm
and to escape my chronic emptiness
but after almost a year of solitude
my standards have been raised to the ceiling
and now I’m protective of my energy
anyone who wants to get near me
will have to make a solid effort
write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners
and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks
Life on the BPD 