I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.
Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you
Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks
Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me
Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/30/poetry-pride/
Nunca sabrás del dolor
Que sentí por tu abandono
nunca veras
las lagrimas que llore por ti
nunca descubrirás
como me llenaste con agonía
Porque soy demasiado orgullosa
para admitir que fui una babosa
Por que tengo demasiada dignidad
para estar llena de miseria por tu culpa
Por tengo demasiado respeto
Para convertirme en un desastre
I wrote in December of 2012 when I was amidst a great depression.
Recognizing the triggers of
My depression is one of
The hardest things I have to do
It’s when I’m silent
Wishing all the bad things
Would go away
It’s when I stop listening
To music
It’s when I struggle
To open my eyes
And face another dreadful day
Here is the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: So You
Lo siento por ti
piensas que has ganado
pero serás otra mujer usada
crees que te ama
pero es una de sus mentiras
piensas que el es tu príncipe azul
pero tu dignidad parara en el suelo
tienes un canalla y mentiroso a tu lado
que te dejará con un mal sabor en tu boca
no digo esto porque te tengo envidia
es una advertencia
para que no acabes como mi
otra de sus muchas mujeres
que el trate como una muñeca de trapo
Here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/13/poetry-same-old-ugly-song/
Pensaba que tu amor era como sueño celestial
me sentía bendecida
pero te volviste en una pesadilla infernal
y aprendí de nuevo
que tu eras otra canción melancólico
otro inútil más
mi amor se volvió en un mar de odio
me di cuenta muy tarde
Que estaba ciega
a que me estabas usando
y me lleno con un fuego de furia
Me hundí en una arena movediza de amargura
Desafortunadamente todavía me acuerdo
de nuestro amor y tu ternura
pero tú arruinaste eso cuando te fuiste con ella
Ojalá que te quedes con ella
porque ahora soy un nunca en tu vida
Quiero olvidarme de todo los que fuimos
porque estoy mejor sola que mal acompañada
tengo que aceptar la mentira que tu fuistes
tengo que aceptar que tu fuistes
otra canción melancólica
I wrote this in 2008.
The Wound
It’s a wound that never closes
No matter how many years
are spent trying to close it
To taste the pure heaven that is you
and have it swept
from under me in a sudden swoop
made the everlasting wound
I looked everywhere
for somebody to help me close it
But no matter how hard
they tried, the wound
wouldn’t come close to closing
I finally met someone who lessened the pain
of the wound
with his gentle and understanding nature
But even after 6 years as his patient
the wound remains open
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1792
Eras un sorpresa lleno
de atención y afección
hasta me dejastes rosas en mi tablero
Pensé, por fin, llegó mi príncipe azul
Pero después de un tiempo
Sentí la distancia entre los dos
ya no tenías tiempo para mi
pronto me darás alguna excusa estúpida
porque me tienes que abandonar
y mi corazón quedará en pedazos
no habrá nada más que decir
me dare cuenta
que tu fuiste el mismo cuento
de otro niño confundido
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/13/poetry-old-habits/
Ella era un hábito que no podías romper
aunque te di lo mejor de mi
Aunque te di mi amor
No era suficiente para ti
entonces corriste a los brazos de ella
y cuando me entere
me aleje de ti
Mientras ella se quedó contigo
porque yo no soy una estúpida
yo se mi valor
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/29/poetry-lies/
Tenías puesto tu disfraz de príncipe azul
para que me queda contigo
Fingiste amarme
Fingiste apreciarme
y yo me creí el cuento
que me estabas contando
Y te amé y tú te volviste mi adicción
pero todo era una mentira
y ahora estoy llena de remordimientos
I wrote this in October of 2007.
Unanswered whys continuously haunt me
Why didn’t we last?
Why did “us” end?
We were the best love story
Where was our happy ending?
Why did our romance suffer an
abrupt and cruel end?
I wrote this in October of 2007.
The freezing cold
hit me as you
said your last
goodbye.
No more warm
and cozy instances
of your body
entrapped with
mine.
Will I ever feel
warm again or
is the cruel cold
a permanent thing?
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/04/30/poetry-early-passion/
Haciendo el amor contigo
me lleva a un Utopía
llena de felicidad
aunque recien nos conocimos
hace 2 días
tú sabes cómo tocar mi cuerpo
como un amante conocido
I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.
I feel small in this enormous and elitist world
it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit
It only seems like a perfect fit
for my younger, blonder, whiter,
and younger counterparts
Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here.
Should I even try ?
When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps
Failure on the steps is what I feel here-
a place where my browner, poorer self
feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice
I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.
Tainted dreams
of life is what
I have left.
A career of abstract
nothingness lies
before me.
Chaotic and sensitive off springs
I must put before me.
Frigidity and
senility in my
marital bed lie
next to me.
Is this it? Is this
what is left
of my
foolish childhood dreams.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
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 this even 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:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
Life on the BPD 