I wrote this in early 2002 about my married coworker Lucas. I remember going out to lunch with him one day and writing this poem about it the next day.
As I look upon him with my dopey love eyes
I wonder how he would feel next to me
at this exact moment
As we are listening to this song
and looking at each other at this very moment
I wonder what his exact feelings are
Maybe it’s something I can never know
or feel for sure
but this moment with him
is something I can forever cherish
Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca de Lucas. Estaba bien amarga y llena de amargura porque él nunca quiso dejar a su esposa. Mis pensamientos eran irracional e ilógico. Esto pasa cuando uno tiene trastorno límite de la personalidad.
El romance paro
gracias a tu cobardía
Nunca quisistes pelear
Por aquel amor que me decias
Que te hacía querer vivir la vida
Y yo me quedo aquí
Sola y desilusionada
Y tu
Con el viejo hábito
Que se llama “tu esposa”
I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed AF. I wrote this because I was in a toxic work environment where I was discriminated against, disrespected, and at one point even slut shamed. We could say by today’s standards that I was bullied to the extent that getting up every morning for this job was really hard. I was tired of it when I wrote this poem. I’ll tell the story of this toxic job in another blog post.
I wish I could throw up
everything ugly in my life
and only enjoy the beautiful
Perhaps tell the put me down people
to fuck off
Or stop their pathetic attempts
to change me into their idea
of what I should be
And stop getting talked into what
they think is best for me
I wrote this in 2002 when I was really depressed. I probably should have gone to therapy but instead I wrote poetry.
My emotional pain is killing me
at a steady pace with no means of stopping
Or even slowing down
I don’t know how to feel good
about myself anymore
I forgot what it’s like to laugh or smile
What’s left of my pride is gone.
I wrote this 20 years ago reflecting on how rough 2001 was for me. I mean there was my whole Jake Gyllenhaal episode and of course “the great breakup of 2001” that inspired dozens and dozens of poems. 2002 wouldn’t be any better but I survived it. Whatever doesn’t kill me makes for good blog content later. Lol. As I reflect now on 2022 and any expectations I have. I honestly don’t have any. I mean 2021 was rough in it’s own right, there was my BPD diagnosis and of course “the great breakup of 2021” BUT it was also a year of tremendous growth and progress for me. And that’s all I hope to have in 2022, continued growth-as a mother, friend, writer, and coworker. As always, I strive to become a better person than I was yesterday.
Another new year
Supposedly filled with promise and hope
As any new anything
Whether it be a new relationship
New job or even a new hero
But will this year really live up to all it’s hype?
And if so, it would be the first wonderful year
with more happiness than sorrows
Or will this new year be another year
Wasted on dead end frustrations
Filled with more sadness
than one can bear
Only as the days and weeks
And eventually months go on will we be able to know
I hope for my sake
That at least will be somewhere in the middle
I wrote this in 2002 about my ex Andrew whom I dated briefly in 1997/1998. Well, we’ll call him the first Andrew because I love to recycle names. Lol. I had a tendency to get nostalgic about because the love and infatuation I felt for him was really, really intense. Also, our story was kind of crazy in its own right but that’s another blogpost. I’ll just say that I idealize him and placed him on a pedestal for many, many years after we broke up.
I think of you tonight
More than I do on most nights
Listening to this melancholic song
Brings back all of those precious moments
With you in my mind
When we were each other’s whole world
And nothing or no one else
mattered except you and I
And I wonder if I ever run through
that beautiful mind of yours
Or if I ever reached your heart
if even for the briefest moment
I wrote this in 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. It kind of sucks that this situation happened BUT at least I got some salty poetry out of it. Lol.
Hey Mr.Donor man
How does it feel to have your son
Learn you never wanted to come
That you talked big shit
and never meant any of it
That no matter how hard I tried for him
you never wanted to be a daddy to him
That you were so fucking lame
You couldn’t even give him your last name
That to you, his mom
was just good fun
That you’re a fucking coward
you never dared to be his father
Don’t worry though
He’ll always have my love
And without you, he’ll be just fine
One day I’ll meet a man who is kind
Who will love him and I
and will want us in his life
Who’ll be glad to take the place of
The man who couldn’t give us love
Who will come to his defense
when things get tense
Who will stick around
And won’t bring him down
Who will finally be
The dad you never wanted to be
I wrote this poem about my oldest son’s bio dad in February of 2002. A lot of residual resentment I had towards him was because he wouldn’t step up. My empathy button for him was really broken for him and in this case maybe it needed to be.
Three years too late
You’ve decided to embrace your fate
You’ve decided to recognize your mistake
And fill my ears with apologies
For not accepting mine and his existence
So now you feel like playing dad
And expect me to forgive and forget
about the misery you left us in
The years of being a fucking deadbeat to him
Please do what you do best
Walk away and put this situation to rest
For he doesn’t need
A false wannabe daddy
Who will cause him harm
in the long run
I wrote this about my first baby daddy in February of 2002 when he contacted me. At the time that we talked, he told me that he wish I would have told him earlier about pregnancy because he would have married me instead of his wife. It honestly made me mad so I sat down and wrote this poem.
You left her without a warning
Couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye
Now you’ve come back
Wanting to stake a claim
On what was once yours
Thinking she will gladly accept you
in a welcoming embrace
Sorry to tell you
But she stopped waiting for your return
a few years ago
You taught her not to need you, not to miss you
She moved on and left you in her mind
as a bittersweet memory
And that’s how she now sees you
I wrote this about Lucas in 2002 because I found he was having an affair with one of my coworkers and I was seriously jealous and also judging him. This is a good example of my BPD and how I can go idealizing someone to devaluing someone in an extremely short amount of time.
Why don’t you just end it?
Instead of running away from it
Into another’s arms
Your wife doesn’t see the cheating alarm
You only make yourself look worse
By acting like a cheating whore
I’m not exactly judging you
But if the tables were turned on you
Would you like it too?
Being lied too and betrayed
By the one you thought was heaven made
I will warn you to be careful
Because of that small karma rule
I wrote this in 2002 fantasizing about the love and life I wanted. Poor 21 year old me, she was so damn naïve.
I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life
wrapped up in your arms
I’m looking forward to newlywed bliss
Having a little one with your gorgeous smile
And in old age, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch
I’m looking forward to petty arguments, responsibility, and bills
What I’m looking forward to the most is to being your wife
Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca cuando estaba involucrada con mi compañero de trabajo Lucas que estaba casado. Estaba bien celosa y amarga.
Usted qué espera señor
Que le siga dando amor
Sabiendo que usted comparte
mis caricias, mis noches
Tambien con ella
Sabiendo que me duele el alma
Cada vez que me entero
Que usted estuvo con aquella
Lo siento, pero no estoy aquí
para ser su tonta
Por nuestro “amor”
Esta historia tiene que parar
Y no lo quiero ver nunca más
I wrote this in January of 2002 about my married coworker Damon. When I have a crush on someone, I kind of use to get obsessed about them. It’s borderline Joe Goldberg vibes. Lol. I can’t tell if it was me having BPD or me being a normal 20 year old.
So I look at you
with my droopy lovesick eyes
And talk to you with my schoolgirl crush voice
Because that’s all I can ever do
It can never go further than that
Because you’re married to another
And that’s something I’m obligated to respect
The only thing left for me to do
is to stay away from you
maybe then my obsession
Will slowly disappear
I wrote this in February 2002 about my first baby daddy. He had started to be in contact with when he got the child support order. I obviously had a lot of residual resentment and trauma and blamed him for losing part of adolescence.
She was the girl you left behind
with nothing but a baby
and a desperate hope to keep her alive
She was innocent, naive, and untouched
until the night she fell into your sexy scent,
your empowering embrace, and a world full of promises
She trusted, believed, and dreamed
Thanks to your unexpected departure
that naive girl you left behind
blossomed into a woman of depth, strength and wisdom
beyond her 21 years
She will lust but she can’t ever love
She wants to trust but finds herself full of doubt
She wishes to fill herself with guilt and morals
but has learned to have no scruples
So don’t try to come back and expect her
to believe in your crocodile tears
or your most insincere apologies
that girl you left behind
Grew up into a woman
at a surreal speed thanks to you
I wrote this in 2002. It was one of those moments when I was having one of those moments where my self esteem was high and I was like fuck love, I’m awesome by myself.
She is not that woman
who needs a man
She alone fulfills her dreams
Without him, her face still beamsme
She is not that beauty chick
Who has all the men at her feet
She’s got something else
When the world of beauty fails
She is not that pushover girl
Submissive with the golden curls
She’s got her own mind
Love is not worth her time
She is not that Ms.Prom Queen
Who wants an engagement ring
A husband she could care less about
She’d rather not take that life route
Life on the BPD 