If I had my gluttonous way and I wasn’t counting the sodium content in fucking everything I’d devour an entire bag of chili cheese fritos in between purchase orders and writing poems I’d stress eat the fuck out of them I’d even offer some to my friends everyone needs to taste this salty and crunchy treat everyone needs to get addicted to this devilish snack that had me buying 4 bags at the time when it was on sale me and Chili cheese fritos were the most epic poem, a match made in consumerist heaven until middle age and genetics brought on high blood pressure and my addiction to chili cheese fritos had to end abruptly so for now, I’ll write silly poems about how I can’t have the one thing I once was addicted to and still crave and hope that once I get my blood pressure under control I’ll be reunited with my comfort snack and we’ll be together again as I write, as I cry as I lay on the couch binge watching some depressing show on netflix
if I’m going to be a mess, might as well be a hot mess
does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head- inside my heart-because lately I’m finding it hard to breathe as my emotions consume and control me- and I feel like the biggest failure and imposter for allowing it to happen even though I still function well enough to mask the mountain of turmoil and grief that’s currently residing me
A crazy business idea I came up with this morning is making custom made piñatas. They’re not any old piñatas. They’re piñatas of things or people you absolutely hate. I would also have a private and safe room where you can beat the shit out of the piñata. I’m not sure if they’re anything like this out there in the world. I have seen a piñata of Trump online before so who knows. I imagine that people with anger issues and disposable income would maybe go for this idea. The safe room I’d provide to beat up the piñata would include music tailored to the client’s taste or my own personal rage playlist. I would also decorate the room according to the clients needs. I know that there are things like rage rooms out there, but, do any of them have custom made piñatas?
Jealousy is a normal emotion of the human condition and shame shouldn’t be associated with it everyone feels it I used to run away from it but now I sit with it ask what it needs Sometimes it’s me projecting an insecurity or sometimes it’s a legit feeling And that’s okay too- and jealousy doesn’t have to destroy anything as long as I know how to acknowledge it and don’t allow it to consume me
An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.
So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.
here is the link to the english version of this poem:
Ser poeta es una locura, una aflicción es un desmadre que hago cada vez que palabras de ira, de amor, de desgracia aparecen en mi página solo a una loca maldecida se le ocurre hacer poesía de sus aventuras y tragedias de su vida
ask me how many fucks I had to give about UGA football…lol
we won the national championship and everyone is so happy and I feel nothing I graduated from UGA but never felt included so while I’ve pretended to care, I’ve always felt like an outcast in a town who cares more about football and idiotic art and bike lanes for woke and privilege white people than for their poor and marginalized communities
sigo la trayectoria de martirio de las mujeres en mi familia sacrificando mis sueños y deseos por el bienestar de mis hijos sofocando mi creatividad y verdad para seguir siendo aceptada por la sociedad y esto me llena de ira y remordimientos que trago, trago, trago hasta que casi me estoy ahogando
In an ideal and magical universe, the one thing I would do differently if I had magical powers is turn into a potato. A potato that becomes a beautiful and most delicious plate of french fries bringing happiness and joy to some random person when they taste me. To become a potato would mean I wouldn’t have to be human and constantly exist which gets extremely exhausting and annoying at times. To become a potato means that for most of my life I would be surrounded by other potatoes, just chilling with absolutely no drama. It would be a swell life, I think.
I want to be part of someone’s french fry addiction
However, I don’t live in an ideal and magical universe so I guess what I could do differently is to become more organized in my life. I have struggled with the curse of disorganized thoughts and a disorganized life since I can remember. I’ve tried and tried and have somewhat succeeded in some areas of my life in becoming more organized. For example, I have a routine that I try my best not to interrupt. It’s important to maintain this routine so I remain semblance of sanity for the most part. It’s hard because I’m pretty sure I have undiagnosed ADHD that’s followed me since I was a kid. That’s also why I struggled with disorganized thoughts which the silver lining in is that I get very creative when I’m in the thick of it. However, it’s also fucked with my sleep schedule which means I rely on sleepytime tea and meds to be able to go to sleep. Having disorganized thoughts also means I get overwhelmed and overstimulated at times in my environment if it’s chaotic. It turns my cortisol levels all the way up and I have to find a way to cope ASAP. It’s my flight or fight response turned on and I usually choose flight. Like for example, during my PMDD period (worst time when I have disorganized thoughts), I’m moody AF and if I get triggered by someone or something, while I may want to hurl insults or punch that person, most of the time I pause, assess, and go for a drive or a walk. Most of the time it’s a drive though because that seems to be the faster way I calm down.
me in car trying to calm down
This post is a perfect example of my struggle with organization. I went from talking about wanting to be a potato to talking about disorganization to my PMDD. This fucking struggle is too real. Anyways, to answer this question, I could make more lists of shit I need to get done, schedule my breakdowns more often when I can (haha), make more time to meditate and relax (Idk how this will happened, I can’t even remember ever taking a nap in Kindergarten). It’s starting to feel like a hopeless situation but Idk maybe I’ll find the answer in a book. Who knows? Crazier things have happened. Also, I’m open to suggestions.
it’s me and my racing thoughts against reality on some days
Yesterday I wondered how it would feel like to travel at the speed of light I almost thought of trying it as I drove-but knocked out that intrusive thought as the faces of my sons came to my mind-even in the worst of my crazy moments my boys come to rescue me-reminding me I have so much to live for
como poetas, escritores, y artistas nuestro poder es crear cambios radicales en el mundo nuestra bendición es poder recordar a la gente de su humanidad, de la esperanza cuando el mundo se siente como un abismo oscuro sin luz
When I think about the greatest gift someone can give me, it’s trust. I feel like trust is something that comes with being a safe space for them to share their troubles, their concerns, their most private thoughts with me. The inner circle I have now with my family and friends gives me that and I feel honored that I can be that person to them. It is important to have community and be safe spaces for each other when the world continues to be a never ending dumpster fire.
hay que decir al carajo con todas las expectativas que la sociedad y nuestros padres no adoctrinaron y aprender a escuchar nuestra intuición y apoyarnos en nuestra salvajismo aullar a la luna llena para encontrar nuestro ser primal que nunca pudieron respirar quizas asi empezamos a sanar y a encontrar comunidad en gente que nos apoya, nos apapacha, y nos ama con autenticidad
I can tell when my depression is getting the better of me I uninstall most of my social media apps- Start isolating from friends and family- dissociate to whatever sad songs I have on repeat Today’s music is Jojo and Taylor Swift and I write anything and everything that comes into my head about what has been or is my current tragedy it’s almost comedic how dramatic I can On days like these I feel too sensitive for this world everything burns, everything is a trigger and I almost hate myself and fall back into self destructive patterns Seek out validation of my existence from others it would be so easy to reach out and get help but today, I want to fully feel my misery as it takes over me let it speak in my writing Me, my music, my paper and pen is all I need to get through this latest depression spell
me pierdo bajo tantas responsabilidades y odio a la mujer que miro en el espejo mi llama se apaga mientras me hundo en la monotonía de mi rutina todos me dicen que estoy loca que debería enfocarme en mis bendiciones pero mi mente me cuenta un cuentos diferente
Life on the BPD 