Poetry: Bad Place

I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed and felt empty. Chronic feelings of emptiness is a trait of living with BPD. It’s rough sometimes.

I’m at a very bad place
I struggle and struggle
to come out of this miserable and horrible place
But somehow feel confined
With a helluva strong glue
at the bottom of my pitiful feel
Stuck to the pit of here( my life)
I continue to
Dream and dream
The impossible dream
To someday become unstuck

Poetry: Home

I wrote this in March of 2003 when I went back to Hawaii. I had a lot of conflicting feelings about this trip.

Waikiki Beach

I’m back here
Where it all started
A place I once called home
But now I’m not so sure
I always wonder if I should’ve stayed
But now I see why I had to go away
It is filled with both
Beautiful memories
of the loved ones I left behind
And ugly memories
of the ones that left me behind
when I needed them the most
I don’t regret coming back
Because it’s what I needed
In order to heal and move on
from you my past, and let you go

Poetry: Sadness

I wrote this in May of 2003 when I was depressed. At the time, I didn’t think about getting help. I also didn’t understand what was happening to me. No one knew because I had become a master as masking my emotions. Instead poetry was my therapy.

depression is rough

The sadness creeps up on me
like a wild animal
upon its prey
Slowly but surely
I become all too quickly
Miserable again
I ponder the question
Why, why, WHY?
I am young and healthy
Yet I begin to feel
like I’m slipping on thin ice
and what scares me the most
is
I DON”T KNOW WHY?

Poetry: Memory

This was another poem I wrote about the first Andrew in early 2003. I think I was dreaming about him a lot and got inspired. I think at the time I kept returning to this past memory of love because I wanted to hold on to the hope that someone like the first Andrew was out there for me.

The memory of you visits me
And a realization washes over me
You were the light in the dark tunnel
in my then hopeless life
You were the song in my heart
That I can’t stop seem to stop playing
Now matter how loud the music
Of my new life tries to drown you out

Poetry: Pathetic Games

I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. Maybe he tried to come back to be an FWB and I got mad and that’s what inspired this poem.

Never

Why do you continue to be
such an asshole to me?
With your pathetic games
you make yourself look lame
You expect me to sit around and wait for you
whenever it’s fucking convenient for you
but I guess this is my fault
for letting us almost fuck
So now I have to tell you something
I will no longer be your fucking fling
So start to forget
that we ever met
Go on your merry away
and stay away
for i am lot more
than an on call whore

Poetry: On My Mind

I wrote this in 2003 about the first Andrew. Yes, I have a hard time letting go of someone after a breakup especially if I really loved them. I think one of the reasons I thought of the first Andrew often was because he was one of the few guys in my romantic life who didn’t objectify me.

so true

You stay on my mind
Even after a long long time
You haunt me in my dreams
I wake up in tears that form a stream
Then you appear in my poetry
Your memory lives inside of me
And at last I ask myself why?
I can’t let you go, my wonder guy

Poetry: No Clue

I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. I’m telling y’all when I get obsessed with someone I’m like the mild version of Joe Goldberg.

You had no clue
How I felt about you
Because you were too hard headed
to put us through the relationship test
because you wanted to be free
Instead of wasting your time on me
It’s really sad
But I’ll have the last laugh
Because one day you’ll realized
I could’ve been your ultimate prize
But now it’s too late
for you have offended your fate

Poetry: Lost Cause

I wrote this in January of 2003 about Lucas. I was still obsessing about him.

Your love was a lost cause
when it was her you chose
but at night I still toss and turn
wondering why it wasn’t me you yearned
Was it the hurtful fact?
You wanted to keep your life intact
Or was it because
I wasn’t good enough
To make the ultimate sacrifice
to leave your perfect and fake life

Poetry: Not Just Lust

I wrote this in January of 2003 but I’m not sure who I wrote this about. Haha.

truth

I think you should know
I want to take things slow
I don’t want to rush
And end up again a lush
I want to know you
Before kissing you
I want us to be friends
Before getting intense
You’re going to have to understand
Before becoming my man
I want it to be true
And not just lust

Poetry: Like Every Other Fool

I wrote this 20 years ago on November 1st right before the great breakup of 2001. I wish I could say that I get over breakups quicker now but that would be a lie. After fights or breakups with partners, I seem to always go back to the girl I was in my teens and 20s. My brain is wired that way and I’ve accepted it. It’s something called age regression that shows up in people with Borderline Personality Disorder. Fear of abandonment is so severe that some of us will feel like we are literally dying after a breakup. Some of us will stop eating, some of us will sleep for days, some of will self harm or have suicidal ideation. With each breakup, I’ve noticed I’ve acquired healthier coping mechanisms. Nowadays, I’ve learned to listen more to what I need in order to heal than what doing what I used to do to escape the pain of heartbreak. My method now is cut off all contact with the ex, exercise, write a LOT and do loads of self care. I’m careful not to fall into any quick escapes from my feelings like going on tinder and trying to find someone new. Do I think I will ever get better at accepting a breakup like a normal person? I don’t know but I hope so. While I’m thankful for all of the inspiration and growth that comes from every breakup ;it’s also very overwhelming, exhausting and draining at times.

❤❤❤

You showed up unexpectedly in my life
Like a pleasant surprise
Calling and seeing me every day
Making me dinner
and leaving me roses on my dashboard
I thought “finally, the one has come”
Suddenly all of those nice things
started becoming scarce
The dinners, the roses, seeing me
became non-existent
Even talking to you on the phone
has become too much of a bother of you
I’m no fool, I know exactly
where this doomed thing is headed
Pretty soon you’ll give me some lame excuse
As to why “we” can no longer be
And my heart will shatter
into pieces yet again
There will be nothing left to say
I’ll just realize once again
You’re just like every other fool

Poetry: Drunk and Blue

I wrote this on January 1st, 2003 about this dude that I hooked up with a week prior. I was upset about John and of course wanted to escape from my feelings of rejection. So I started once again seeking validation from men and ended up hooking up with some guy from the bar.

So true

The night I met you
I was drunk and blue
Because of that impossible love
Who said I wasn’t good enough
So I decided to drink my pain away
and then you came my way
With your charming and smooth manner
I should’ve known you were a player
But you told me everything
That I wanted to believe in
How you had never met anyone like me
And that you wanted us to be
It sound almost too good to be true
But i was feeling lonely too
So i decided to give in to you
Afterwards you promised to call

But instead you went awol
And many days later I sit here
In a river of foolish tears
Wondering why why why
I always fall for the same false lines

Poetry: Crooked Turn

I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. Guess I was still mad at the rejection I felt when he ghosted me.

It’s like that sometimes

If I was nothing more
Than another girl
Why couldn’t you have been straight
Instead of acting in an enamored way
And made me really believe
You truly care for me
but I should have known all along
that you’d be the same jerk song
Hopefully one day I’ll learn
to stop taking all you crooked turns

Poetry: Remembrance

I wrote this in April of 2003 about the first Andrew, the guy I fell in love when I was 16. I had gone to Hawaii in April and went to the beach we use to go to and I wrote this poem. Yes, I was still having nostalgia about a short relationship from 5 years ago. One of my BPD traits is being obsessed with some of my romantic partners after the relationship has ended after a long time.

Kailua Beach, Hawaii

So I take a walk on the beach
Where we used to come
And make promises of young love
But like the waves of this tumultuous ocean
Our lives took turbulent and separate turns
and our beloved promises
Got forgotten somewhere in between
And for some reason I keep thinking
A new tide will come in
and I’ll turn around one day
And you’ll take me in
With a welcoming embrace
And fate will remember us
Once again