Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: No Clue
Fui una estúpida al pensar que tu serias algo diferente
alguien que se quedaría
pero repetí el mismo error
enamorarme de otro hombre confundido
enamorarme de potencial y cerrar los ojos a la realidad
esto me pasa por seguir creyendo en cuentos de hadas
donde el príncipe salva a la princesa
donde el príncipe se queda para siempre
y no se va cuando le da la gana
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: On My Mind
me encierro en sueños y fantasías del pasado
porque mi presente está lleno de amargura y odio
sin saber cómo convertir la tragedia de mi vida
en una historia de victoria
por eso prefiero encerrarme en la nostalgia
de mi pasado romántica cuando todavía tenía esperanza
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I call to the waning moon for inspiration, for motivation
Some days it’s hard to keep going, to keep trying
I call to the waning moon to turn into Mama Killa
and bring me comfort and growth
Here’s the version in English:
Poetry: Letter to My Former Lover
Ahora veo que tu tenias razón en acabar nuestro cuento de amor
Ahora veo que tu adiós fue una bendición
y no es que porque te odio o porque te tengo rencor
no, al contrario te deseo lo mejor
te deseo que el universo te bendiga con felicidad y paz
entiendo ahora que lo de nosotros no podía continuar
por que tu nunca fuistes y nunca serías el hombre
que me ayudaría evolucionar
o que apreciara mi creatividad
o que pudiera luchar a mi lado cuando la realidad de la vida
se vuelve un huracán difícil de navegar
me hiciste un favor al irte para espacio para alguien
con la fortaleza y valor que tu nunca tuviste
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I used to lie about my sins when I went to confession-
to have something, anything to confess to arouse interest in the priest
to not feel the burden of goodness on me-
and the priest gave me prayers and rosaries to atone for my made up sins
stuck between two divas-I was never meant to stand out
my older sister shouted cries of continued injustice
my younger sister just cried over any little thing
my parents tried their best to give us individual attention
but sometimes I got left behind between the shuffle
of my sisters’ hysterics
and while I hold no ill will towards my sisters or my parents
I wonder what my life would have been life
if I had been the first or last born
Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Not Just Lust
hay que tomarnos tiempo para conocernos
antes de brincar en otra tragedia de amor
hay que ver que encajamos de verdad
antes de profesar “te amos” y “te quieros”
y no apresurarnos en empezar algo
que algún día nos destruirá
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Hard
basta de tanto esperar ha alguien que me sepa apreciar
mami me dice que es porque no me dejo respetar
porque me dejo llevar por la pasión del momento sin pensar
y a lo mejor mami tiene la razón
debería de dejar de escuchar
a los deseos temporáneos de mi corazón
y empezarme a valorar
As far as what my future holds for me, I’ve been doing a lot of long term goal planning and manifestations the past few years and that’s been working for me. Here’s a recent blog post I wrote about it:
goal setting
The past 2 years was me trying to find out who I was and what I wanted out of life. I had this very vague idea, almost like a sketch but now I have a clear picture of what that is exactly. Getting out of survival mode was crucial for this development and I’m excited about the future. One thing I can tell you is that there will definitely be more storytelling. In fact, for the month of September, I’m telling my story chronologically with some of the moments in my life that most impacted me. This came about organically as I was planning blog content for that month and I said, “fuck it, let’s do this” and “let’s see what happens”. I think that so much of my healing happened because of my storytelling. It was important for me to retell my story because that’s how I took ownership of it. It helped turn me from a victim to heroine in my story and this has been monumental to my healing process. Of course, sometimes that looks crazy and messy but it only proves what a resilient and powerful Queen I am to still be standing despite the chaos and trauma I’ve been through. Here’s a poem I wrote in April about it:
Sharing my story
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at time, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
I restarted this blog a couple of summers ago as a way to cope with my mental breakdown and at the time I had only 17 followers and now I have more than 300 followers who have been incredibly supportive and encouraging throughout this self discovery journey. Thank you to all of you who have given me this safe space on the internet to share my story through blogging and poetry. This has been incredibly instrumental in helping me in my recovery from BPD . It’s given me a sense of love through community that I didn’t know could exist and I’m incredibly grateful and humbled by it. Anyways,if you’ve made it to the end of this blog post, you’re the best. I’m not sure what year 3 after my BPD diagnosis but I hope I continue to evolve and live a life with purpose for the betterment of myself and my kids.
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I let go of control over what I can’t change
and allow the source to do what’s best for me
because faith has always shone a light in me
because I’ve never felt alone because of her
she has the power to transform,
she provides the hope for me to go on
as I walk towards self worth, confidence
and empowerment in my heroine’s journey
Escribi este poema en agosto de 2022.
El hogar que he construido me deja con felicidad en mi corazón
porque he luchado mucho para llegar
Aquí, a un sitio que me llena de orgullo, a un sitio que me llena de amor
El hogar que tengo ahora es algo seguro que nunca se ira
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Halfway through 41, I am truly alone
no potential love candidates
and sometimes the loneliness threatens to kill my soul-
But I know better than to suffer through another deception
so I process all of my feelings through poetry
Hoping it’s enough to keep the romantic in me
from making another mistake
Here’s is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Crooked Turn
otro giro equivocado más en el amor y perderé la fe para siempre
porque siguiendo repetir la misma tragedia
es una locura que está acabando con mi espíritu, con mi alma
mejor sería quedarme sola que seguir perdiendo partes de mi
por mi anhelo de ser amada
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I finally read a book I felt seen in
I finally read a book that didn’t make a Latina
a side character, a vixen or a maid
I finally read a book that addressed
the complexity of the intersectionality
of an American Latina’s identity
I finally read a book that changed my life
Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Drunk and Blue
Solita y borracha llorando de nuevo por un hombre
que se burlo de mi dignidad
Solita y borracha, te conoci y me deje llevar
por la química y tu carisma
solita y borracha contigo quería olvidarme al otra
y por algunas horas pudo hacerlo
Solita y borracha prometiste llamarme pero no más
fue una promesa sin substancia
solita y borracha de nuevo estoy pero esta vez con ira con mi misma
por siempre repetir el mismo cuento por no saber valorarme
