✶ client transfer, babe

listen.
i know
those venmo payments
were on private.
i know
because
i was told about them.
more than one.
with vague-ass reasons.
you know,
something like
“client goals, babe,”
or
“she can actually
enroll them✨
so i’m getting
the ✨kickback, babe.”

let me spell that out
for whoever’s still trying to play dumb:

• during the time this woman
  was assigned as my financial representative,

• my then-husband—
  who was not yet licensed to manage clients—

• was receiving
  direct payments from her

• while i was
  pregnant,
  financially supporting
  his dumb ass,
  and under active legal duress.

cool?

now.
maybe i’m wrong.
maybe i
fucking hallucinated
that during
the same time
she was
fucking advising me,
and he was
being onboarded
under this magical
“family firm” dynamic,
there were ambiguous
payments sent
directly to him.

but i didn’t
imagine sending
screenshots
to the company.
i didn’t imagine
filing
multiple documented disclosures
notifying them
that the
violence
✨ escalated ✨
dramatically
as those two got closer
and the payments increased.
while i was actively
begging for support,
trying to survive,
and handling every policy myself.

and the company’s response?
“the rep will be back next week.”

✨✨

yo. lol
cool.
so no urgency
at all, right?

meanwhile,
i’m sending
memoed,
timestamped,
documented transactions
from the same
financial rep
who was placed
on my fucking account
with no disclosure
of her relationship
to the man
actively abusing me.

let me say that again.
she was my assigned rep.
he was my husband.
she was sending
money to him.
i was under
medical,
legal,
and financial strain.
and no one said a word.

i’ve now
submitted
ten + emails,
screenshots,
and legal warnings.
and no one
has denied ✨
the relationship.
no one
has disclosed ✨
the extent of it.
no one
has explained ✨
how this happened,
or how this was compliant.

✨ so just for the record:

i’ve said it privately.
i’ve said it in my disclosures.
i’m saying it now—

from my understanding,
there were
kickbacks happening
between my husband
and my financial advisor
during a time
when i was
both their client
and their target.

if that’s not a compliance issue,
then maybe your entire firm is.

✶

feels like:

“when your husband’s
side chick
manages your finances”

or

“kickback season”?

✨

✶ dear god, fuck you for this

nah

where the fuck were you?
where the actual fuck were you
when i was getting
punched in the fucking head
by another fucking liar
who said he loved me?

where the fuck were you
when i got fucking married
with your fucking jewelry on?

yeah,
babe,
i wore
one of the fucking earrings
you gave me
when you fucking swore
to fucking god
you’d never leave me
alone out here
to fucking die.

you left me
for some dude
who stole
fucking everything from me,
probably fucked a coworker,
and almost fucking killed me—
all while you knew
there was literally fucking no one
to fucking protect me.

where the fuck were you?
fucking hiding.
fucking feeling sorry
for yourself.

did you think your silence
would be quieter than the sound
of my skull cracking
on the goddamn floor?

you showed me
one fucking second
of softness.
one flash of fucking safety.
one glimpse of what
it could feel like
to not be dying all the fucking time.

and then?

you fucking bailed.
you left me
in the middle of a fucking war
you helped me believe
i wouldn’t have to
fucking fight alone
for fucking ever.

congratu-fucking-lations.
i made it out.
i fucking guess.
but i had to
fucking crawl through hell
while bleeding
from my fucking pussy,
my face,
and my bank account
just to keep a kid fed
on a single digit
fucking checking balance
and zero fucking backup.

you knew.
you fucking knew.
i didn’t need perfection.
i needed protection.
and you weren’t fucking there.

so fuck the stars.
fuck the healing.
fuck the
“everything happens for a fucking reason”
fuck god,
fuck fate,
fuck forgiveness.

fuck you
for putting this
fucking story in my hands
and leaving me to
fucking write it alone.

you know
how many times
i almost died?
and i thought—
if he knew,
would he fucking come?

but you never did.
even when i tried.
yo.
this isn’t vengeance.
it’s not a fucking
blame piece.
it’s a goddamn funeral.

for my fucking hope.

because i’m so fucking tired.
because i didn’t want
to do this alone.
because i didn’t want
to be this fucking strong.

i wanted you to stay.
and now i have
this beautiful little girl.
and i’m so fucking grateful.
but i am so fucking tired.
and every time
she smiles at me
and calls me mama
and reaches for me
while i’m fucking sobbing—
i think about how
it all started
with a miscarriage
and a man
who didn’t know
what to do with pain
except run.

if you’re still reading,
i hope
some part of you aches.

not for me.
but for the version of you
who couldn’t stay
when it mattered most.

because i’m still here.
fucking bleeding.

bruised.
brilliant.
burning.

but never fucking saved.

😭

yo—where tf did my adderall go? ✨💊

(aka: when my adderall prescription just... vanishes; at large quantities)

yo. this is
a financial services mystery
nobody thought
i would fucking notice
but everyone
should be
potentially
fucking fired over
💊💊💊✨

let’s do some pharma math, babe.

back in 2022,
i did what any legally-minded,
trauma-certified baddie
would do—
documented that shit 💫
on my then-ex mistake
for straight-up
emptying my adderall script.
(not once, not twice—repeat offender,
like he’s
running a loyalty program
for the broke
and hyperactive.)
like…yo.
not a pill or two.
not even a “bad day” 5-pack.
nah.
30 fucking pills, gone.
in 48 hours.
repeatedly.

let’s set the scene:

originally?
grad school drop-out era
let’s be real
10, 20, 30 pills? 💊✨👻
my dude,
you would literally be dead 💀✨🕊️
if you were actually
taking all that.
so unless
you’re running
on undead warlock juice,
what tf were you doing?
🤡💊✨💸

oh wait—
maybe
you were in 🤑 business school
aka
the frat-adjacent
finance bootcamp
for socially anxious rich kids
and maybe 💸✨
budget coke dealers.
so yeah,
i put two and two together:

you were most probably:
flipping my adderall
to your cohort.
like some backwards
felon-adjacent
emotionally fucked MLM.
🗣 "hey bro, my girl’s got a script—
don’t worry, she won’t notice."
LOL
she did.

and then the bitchiest plot twist?
when you left school,
babe!
it got worse.

✍🏼✍🏼✍🏼

let’s run back,
his financial bro era: ✨

✘ coke “history” (lol) 💀
✘ broke as hell.
✘ private group chats lit 🔥
✘ suddenly— shit-ton of pills go missing. 💊✨👻
✘ timing? right before he kicks my ass

lol
babe!
like—
you weren’t even
pretending✨
to be in
finals season anymore,
and you were
STILL
raiding my shit
like a raccoon in a CVS??
every time
i forgot to lock it up?
poof.
gone.
another $$$
💊💊💊✨💸
double handful of
schedule ii stimulants,
mysteriously vanished
like your fucking moral compass.

but yo—
don’t fight him
he
might
fucking
strangle you.
✨💀

but babe—
you expect me
to believe
you were taking
ALL OF IT?
your 170 lb
finance-dude frame
just casually
popping
300 mg/day
for fun? 💀💀🏥

nah.
baby—
maybe…
looks like…
you had
a pipeline. ✨

i mean…yeah,
i’m not ✨ alleging ✨
he sold ‘em,
i’m just saying,
20–35 pills gone
in two days?
math says:
either you’re
the world’s most
functional fucking corpse,
🙏💀🪦℞
or you got ✨ clients,
my dude.

oh,
and his
little ✨ work girlfriend?
babe!
you seemed very energized 😳
for someone who “just wanted to help.” ✨🤤
how’s that potential—
adderall-powered moral flexibility treating you?

i’m not saying you took it.
i’m just saying
you spent
8 hours a day,
5 days a week,
with the man
who stole my medication nonstop
and probably?
wandered his gremlin ass
into an apartment 👹🚶‍♂️🗺️
✨ five minutes away
to “decompress.”
while he’s literally
putting me in
the fucking ✨ hospital.
babe—
you tell me.
did the pills
just disappear into the ether?
or were y’all
just really productive? 🙂🚩

but you know
what’s wild?
yo,
this wasn’t secret. 🚩
💊💊✨

there was:
✘ documented shit
✘ blatant fucking warning signs 🚩
✘ babe! this shit was mentioned in court filings✨
✘ yo—like: ✨mandated drug test for visitation
✘ countless text + email receipts

bro—
y’all just
neglected
to do any
fucking
✨ due diligence.

or maybe?
any
fucking
supervision.
🙏

again ✨

i’m not “accusing”
i’m just pointing out
how 1 + 1 + “yo did you take my adderall?” +
“nah babe, you must’ve lost it” +
mandated court drug testing =
the math is not mathing.

again.
i’m not alleging shit. 🕊️
i’m just pointing out that
your “heroic finance king”
was repeatedly stealing narcotics
from his wife
while actively abusing her,
and possibly?
handing them out like breath mints
at his firm’s morning huddle.

and for
✘ the compliance crew,
✘ the corporate risk girls,
✘ the senior bros
✘ and all the other 😶‍🌫️ little ops
reading this from your VPNS:
✨talk to legal.✨
because i’m not making threats.
i’m just saying:

✘ y’all never had control of this man.
and it shows. ✨

✍🏼✍🏼✍🏼
so my girlies!
try harder.
do better.
and maybe next time,
lock your fucking medicine cabinet.

🖐🏻💊✨℞

girl, i’m crying in a wal✶mart parking lot

holy fucking shit
i’m not even gonna lie—
i ugly cried in a
walmart
parking lot today
in my fucking car.
yo.
maybe i make
this shit look
fine. 🪷🧘🏼‍♀️
(mostly pissed?)
but honestly,
this shit is
fucking war.
like—
i sat there
full ass sobbing.
like a fucking asshole
just trying to
print out
400 pages
of fucking bullshit.

babe—
i just wanted a fucking hug
and instead
i got absolutely skullfucked
by a $33 overdraft
for buying
fucking
printer ink.

🗣🗣
cuz babe!
🗣🗣
that car insurance?
you absolutely fucked?
pulled $700 out today
the credit card was $150
cuz you know,
food. 💸
and sweetie—
my actual legal husband? ✨
the fucker
is busy
skipping around 🤸✨👨‍⚖️
the fucking city
🗽👮✈️
like a fucking asshole
🤨🏳‍🌈?
avoiding
deadbeat dad jail
for absence
of fucking
child support
payments—
fucking ever.
🏆✨👑

yo,
and probably
with some fucking gremlin 🐀
who encouraged✨ him
fucking emotionally
and PING PINGingly 💸🤑💰✨
to
almost
fucking
end my fucking life.
🥀🪦⚰️

WHAT THE FUCK.

yeah.
not a fucking metaphor.
not cute.
not poetic.
literal hp-brand poverty dye
to print out 400+ pages
of legal evidence
so i can prove—
drumroll—

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
that a mid-tier financial firm
fucked me sideways
while i was pregnant
and then handed my account
to the dude’s office side chick
as an extra “go fuck yourself”
🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

like congrats
on surviving
fucking full on
two hands around
your fucking throat
manual strangulation
👏👏👏👏
(third trimester, babe 🏆)
here’s a
conflict-of-interest
with a fucking trust fund
and zero fucking shame
to manage your financial portfolio 💋

and bro—
the good printer? ✨
the laser one?
the one i bought
while still delusional enough
to believe in
home equity and family??
still in a fucking box—
in my dad’s fucking basement
alongside my entire fucking closet
aka 20 years of curated,
hot-bitch outfits
i can’t touch ✨
because god forbid
i try to access
the literal fucking belongings
because
i had to
flee for our fucking safety.

meanwhile
i have a legal oral
presentation tomorrow
and i’m choosing between
leggings with dried tears
or a cropped tank
that looks like
complex fucking PTSD. 💔
but yeah.
let’s perform professionalism.

lol!
today
i had 3 hours.
three fucking hours.
to do two weeks
of legal,
academic,
domestic,
and emotional labor
and instead
i spent it
driving
to
two
different
fucking places
trying to find one—
just one—
that could print
400 fucking pages
of lawsuit paperwork
before i finally said
fuck it (!!!!!!!)
and sobbed in my car
like a fucking chick
who someone gives
an actual
fucking
fuck
about.

👼🏼 (yo. my few true angels, forgive me, i love you)

but you wanna know
the worst fucking part?

yoooooooo.
REALLY.
i just wanted a fucking hug.
💔💔💔
like for real.
not dick.
not romance.
not attention.
just a fucking hold.
full on arms wrapped around me.
just one second
of being physically not-alone
in a world
that has done
nothing but
fucking obliterate me.

and i couldn’t
even
visualize it. 💔💔💔
no man’s arms
came to mind.
not a single
fucking
one.
(now i’m crying lol)
every past hug?
fucking poisoned.
every man?
a fucking threat,
a fucking liar,
or a walking unpaid fucking invoice.
there is no safe
set of arms
left in my brain.
no one to collapse into.
no fucking shield.
no fucking softness.
just me.
and a $33 overdraft
(actually $-152
by the time
i got home
and the clothes dryer
repair invoice
hit the account)
because
BRO
i needed ink
to fight a fucking financial giant.

and my own
fucking husband.

because instead of protecting me
he fucking stabbed me in the fucking back.
🙃✨🔪

just like the rest of them.
🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹

but best part?
yo—
i’m still gonna fucking win.
on E, bro.
in a hoodie i hate.
with tears dried
on my fucking chin
and highlighters
i bought
with fucking quarters.

because fuck.
all i got left
is the kind of
un-fucking-hinged stamina
that makes corporate giants
shit their fucking pants.

so yeah.
i’m fucking broke.
i’m fucking exhausted.
i’m absolutely fucking inkless.
and i’m still gonna
eat them the fuck alive.
✋😃

fuck.
every.
single.
fucking.
one of them.
especially those
fucking bastards at hp.
ink prices bro?
shit should be a fucking crime.

✶

ur honor i promise i do not care, i just need her deposed

nah.
no way.
no fucking way.

✶

no, seriously.
did your daddy not—
hug you enough
or some shit?
because seriously—
this isn’t even scandalous.
it’s just...embarrassingly stupid.

like…
screaming for attention.
🥺💔

babe.

you grew up legacy cash—
got licensed to manage
other
people’s
capital,
and still—

🤯 risked your career,
your reputation,
your family money
for a married dude
with a pregnant wife,
an empty bank account
and mediocre d*ck??? 🤯

are you actually that fucking dumb??

babe!
truly—

✨inspiring.✨

because like—
seriously,
you’re not 19.
you’re not confused.
you’re not fucking new here.

you are a
licensed financial rep
watching dv disclosures
in fucking real time—
under your fucking
government name (!)

holy shit. do you even grasp the gravity?
let’s walk through the choices, babe:

✘ inserted yourself inappropriately
into an active dv situation ☠️
✘ sent funds to the abuser
while holding licensure 💸
✘ assigned yourself
to the victim’s finances 📝
✘ mos def saw insta stories
about head trauma + fetal distress 👶🏽
✘ watched policy premiums
draft from her bank account 🏦
✘ weirdly unavailable when the policies…vanish.
✘ then (checks notes) …fucking dipped?

girl!

were you serious?
no notice?
no formal recusal?
no refund?
lmfao.

and still
somehow thought
you were gonna get out clean??

meanwhile:
she’s posting her

✘ restraining order
✘ hospital visits
✘ child support non-payment
✘ bro—policy fraud?
with screenshots?!

and your instinct was: 💡

“i should watch that… again.”
👁️👁️👁️
…
under your own name.
with licensure
on file.

????????

like...girl.
girl.
this is
reputation-ending behavior.

like—what the actual fuck???

this isn’t just
⚠️ morally repugnant.
it’s psychotically reckless.

you really thought
you were gonna be the
cool auntie at the birth—
and the secret side piece
and the ghosted fucking fiduciary
and the untraceable insta-stalker
and maybe…the girl he picks in the end???

jesus christ—
girl, you are delusional. 📢

bro,
can you imagine??
being so
desperate
that with your whole public profile—
you saw the bruises.
you saw the er posts.
you watched
every
fucking
story
where i said
he left us with nothing.

and you’re like,
yeah—
she’s crazy.
i really get him.
🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹
lol, so
i’ll just stalk silently—
disclose nothing,
probably iMessage her
legal husband—
in real time.
babe!
are you a fucking ghost?
👻👻👻

holy.
fucking.
shit.

🤯🤯

you’ve really
been sheltered,
this fucking much—
from the
✨consequences
of your ✨ actions
huh?

💸🤑💰💖✨

damn.

baby girl.

you watched everything.
(!!!!)
did you think
you were invisible?
😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️
sweetheart!—
you are fucked.

let me be really clear:
baby—
you don’t get
to walk away from this.
you don’t get to
hide behind
legacy money bullshit
or naivety.
babe, these are—
actual grounds for disbarment. ☠️

lol

sweetie—
you are:

ivy
league
educated
🏆💫

but you didn’t know
being an
emotional office mistress
when you’re
the listed rep 💫
was gunna be
a “no-no”
??????
🤷‍♀️💀

girl seriously???

you knew.
and you fucking chose this.
you just truly thought—
you were gunna get away with it.

babe!—
you live in
delulu land,
✨🌈🕊️
where white girls
with money
+ your zip code
= get away with
✨ savage levels of
absolute fucking violence ✨
because they almost 😥 cried once.

✨ girlie!
not this time.

✋🏻🛑

now?
i get to make sure
every professional circle
you ever orbit
hears all about
✨ exactly
what your versions
of “ethics”
and “fiduciary”
look like.

🤫🔪🚗🤘🏻👹🤷‍♀️💀

baby,
no one
with a
✨ spouse—
will ever
want you
around
ever fucking again.

girl—
no one’s gunna trust you
with…shit.

because you’re that
opportunistic and pathetic. 👹

sweetheart!
you don’t get to play
the victim
when you
bet the house
on someone else’s husband
and thought nobody would notice
that you burned that shit down.
🤷‍♀️🔥💀

like… what did you think was gonna happen??

seriously?
how do you think this plays out?
you really thought i’d just...
forget…
not notice?
—settle?
💀💀💀
with you?

girl—
lol

how dumb are you?
i want your name
on ✨ public records 📢❗🚨
so the next victims?
they’re 🚧 fucking warned,
babe—
put on notice;
✋🏻🛑⛔️
of your conduct❗❗
so you
can’t
ever 🚨✨
fucking do this shit
to anyone
ever
fucking
again.
💫

sweetie,
you thought i’d quietly
let you hijack my life,
my money,
my child’s future,
and my fucking dignity?

nah, girl.
you have no idea
how girls like me play.
babe—i’m organized.
you’re sloppy.

welcome to the 🌴 fucking jungle, bitch.
we’re going to court. ✨

discovery’s gunna
fuck your shit up
transparency’s gunna
follow you into those
alumni rooms. 🙃✨

you—
the overgrown
trust-fund baby—
playing fucking sheriff
in someone else’s nightmare.

the jury?
yooooo. 💀💀💀💀
psych dive:
babe—
they’ll see a
spoiled,
entitled
steal-your-man
absolute fucking brat 💳💫👹
so starved for attention
she would literally
fuck up her
💫 entire life
to be the
likely—
secret-during-business-hours-meet-up,
emotional ✨ fuck
while his
legal wife was—
home
pregnant
and
paying for shit.
✨🤮

ok girlie—
📸 picture this:
your arrogant face
in a fucking deposition room,
screenshots flashing
one by one,
every cash payment,
every fucking weird text,
every “awkward” pick me moment.

bro—i can’t. 💀

you really thought
you were untouchable.
lol.
babe—

✨⚖️ you’re the main event in my legal action

and nothing
you do now
is gonna save you
from your
✨ new legacy.

aka: 🗣 wtf were you doing
w/ my legal husband?

✶

…or:

🗣🗣🗣
“the financial rep
who probably—
aided & abetted
violence + financial abuse
because she was
so fucking desperate
to get a broke man—
who beat his
pregnant wife.”
💸🤰🥊 ✨

the best part?

you don’t get anything.
you don’t get out clean.
and you don’t get to pretend—
this wasn’t: 💫 the most pathetic fucking performance
in betrayal i’ve ever fucking seen.

i hope the screenshots
haunt every
“yo… isn’t she that girl who…”

because yeah.
girl—
you are. 🏆

✂️

make better choices.
oh wait—too late.

neutral observations on a legacy of loss 🥀🦷 (and dental decay)

just blowing
off
some steam
in a
do not go
straight-to-jail
kinda way

🪷🧘🏼‍♀️

✶

ok
💀
hey!
my personal
spawn of a demon,
did you really
try to
out-maneuver me?
you—
💸🧌
of all fucking people?
who i have personally
outwitted
in every
measurable fucking reality.
like,
you looked at me
and thought,
💡"fuck it, i’m gonna fuck with this bitch."

lmao.
bro—why?
dire miscalculation.
💸🏦📉
bro.
the one person
who should have
known exactly
what happens
when i—
🧠💥 lock the fuck in.
oh…
my already balding,
walking regret—
let’s be honest:
there’s plenty
of radio static
buzzing
around in my skull,
but when
that adhd superdrive hits?
🧠💥 🦸🏼‍♀️👊🏼⚡

oh, babe. 🚩
it’s game fucking over.

look,
i may not be like—
legally blonde,
but my specialty?
bitch—survival.
my credentials: trauma.
my degree: not fucking dying.
my spidey-senses
go full siren
the second
i’m being set the fuck up.
i’m not the boss fight you wanted—
i’m the final boss you fucking deserved.
🏃‍♂️🦷👹🚗

yo, and let’s be clear:
🗣🗣 i do this
for every single woman
you’ve fucked over—
the exes
you stole from,
cheated on,
left a mess for.
for the legal ex
you absolutely fucked,
for every sneaky,
weak-gremlin move
that made grown women cry—
not because you’re hot,
but because
🗣 you’re a violent,
🗣 controlling,
🗣 manipulative,
🗣💥 deeply dangerous
fucking dude.
bro—
even for the ones
i never liked—
because, let’s be real,
🗣🗣🗣
you are
elite
level
destructive.

and babe,
you never got one
over on me.
i just thought,
“nah, he can’t be
that fucking stupid.”
💀 so fucking wrong.
turns out you’re exactly
that fucking stupid.

sounding
the alarm
on you and your
violent-ass chaos?
bro—never gets old.
ever.

and you
really
thought
you could poke the fucking dragon?
turn this into
some low-budget
office drama,
with the c-squad?
while getting
an emotional cubicle handjob?
from a chick
whose teeth
are still waiting
for her trust fund to clear?
🥀🦷💀

lol. wrong.

my evil king,
👹👑
you
dragged your
entire fucking financial firm,
compliance squad,
and the great
yellow-toothed goblin 🦷🐲
straight into
your own personal hell documentary.
🔥🔥🔥 starring: you.

here’s your reality check—
i’m not just
coming for receipts,
i’m coming
for maximum penalties
and a cc line
that’ll make your lawyers’ lawyers
stress the fuck out.
every regulator.
every DA.
every fucking dollar,
every policy—
i want it all.
🔥⚖️🧌🤑💸

because—seriously,

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
all of y’all are a danger to society.
🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

y’all fostered
🗣 violence
🗣 and financial warfare
and then?
🗣 fucking laughed
as your
🗣 office watched,
thinking
you’d get away with it.

baby,
if you end up
on food stamps
when this is done, 😢🎻
maybe you’ll finally know
what it’s like
to survive on nothing
while everyone
pretends it’s your fucking fault.

except this time?
🏆 it actually fucking is.

damn.
like?
divine
karmic
intervention,
babe.
you punched me
in the head
at 9 months pregnant?
bet.
now the whole firm
is coming with you.
⚡💸

think of the kids—
babe,
🥺👉👈
think of my kid—
the one you abandoned?
while you played
cubicle-hubby
with your
whole closet full
of fucking
banana republic™,
and somehow?
every fit
still screams,
“hr orientation meets
dental malpractice”
bae?
tragic, babe.

but—
thank you,
beloved legally bound troll,
for being
the world’s most epic douchebag
🧑‍⚖️🦷💸🦹‍♂️
and for making sure
your entire company
and goblin bestie
crash-landed
right fucking beside you.

after all
that social climbing,
🔥 your big legacy?
punched
your pregnant wife
so many times
she ended up in the ER
because
you almost
got caught hiding
a low-level,
possibly-sexual,
high-key repulsive,
(those teeth, that face?)
office affair ✨
with a khaki-wearing,
skincare-failure queen
so desperate
for validation
she’d blow up
her own fucking life
just to feel
✨close to you—
while you were
newly married
and i was
carrying your dumb ass
(and your kid).
🤰🥊💥

✶

be proud, babe.
your dad?
🙏🪦
yeah,
he’d be fucking
mortified,
embarrassed,
and truly
rolling in his fucking grave.
🤰🥊💥
🤰🥊💥
🤰🥊💥

✶

a legacy you deserve.

🪦💀🦷🧌🔥

babe—you made like $2.84/hour? 💀 seems legit.

✶

babe,
now that i’ve been forced
to draft
100+ pages
of fucking documentation
(love that for me) 💋
i just want
to thank you
for the most
expensive
unpaid
internship
in fuckboy history.
🏆🏆🏆

the
evidence pile
is
truly
almost—
as deep as your delusion: ✨👨‍⚖️

but let me
breakdown
what i’ve realize,
now that i’m not
under
threat
of
imminent ✨ violence.

ok so.

🐀📈🧢

✘ 5 days a week
✘ “commuted” an hour
but bro—
you brought home…
like??
a single
✘ $2k commission check
✘ in…like…5 months?

iconic productivity.
🏆
⛽
👑

wait but—
the same fucking place
with a
whole fucking motto—
out here like 🗣🗣
culture for new reps:
🗣
“be in the office
for morning huddle,
then vanish
and ‘prospect’ wherever,
as long as you close.”
so like?
half the office
never sees each other
after 10 a.m.?
my dude!
you cost more
in fucking gas
than you made
in sales.
you better
have been
sitting in
that 🙃
fucking 🙃
cubicle 🙃
eigthhoursaf&%kingday
🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃
isweartof&%kinggod
✨🌈🕊️🪷🧘🏼‍♀️
lol.

yoooooo—bro is the
💸✨ economic queen.

so…
what were you doing?
5x a week.
for like…most my pregnancy
not making
a dime?
hmmmm.

maybe?

✘ badge swipe
✘ bing at the office,

then what?

✘ gone 👻
✘ location off.
✘ + 11 pm mystery errands
✘ + 300% increased homicidal tendencies?

weird—
bro.
it looks like…

✘ your office goblin
just happened to live?

✘ a five-minute walk away? (👹🚶‍♂️🗺️🏢)

✘ very interesting ✨

does this mean?—
and wait—
i could
totally
be
reading this wrong. 🤡
but like…?
✘ no car.
✘ no money.
✘ no reason to fucking be there.
✘ 5 days a week.
✘ all day.
✘ pregnant severely ill wife
✘ 140 lbs. dog shitting in the condo daily
L O L
✘ aug to dec?

so…
feels like
you’re a fuckboi
shorting the fuck out?—
👨🏻‍💻👨🏼‍💻🧠💥🔌
signaling
👨🏼‍💻 to me
fucking
dumbass
cheater code for:
👨🏼‍💻💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥
”it took a
whole
fucking
tank of gas
to sit
on her couch—
and call it…
a job?”

because
baby—
that’s
what
✘ the fucking evidence
seems
to
indicate.

idkkkkk man.

feels off. 🤔

(bro.
i bought
a 40k financed
fucking vehicle,
so you
🐀📈🧢✨👨‍⚖️
could commute.
+ fucking interest
+
you
totaled
my
paid
off
vehicle
🤡💀🙃)

fuuuuuuckkkkkkk.

🙃✨🌈🕊️

deep breath.

but for real?
all the while,
i was in
✘ trimester two?
✘ then three?—
damn, dude.

out here
✘ working,
✘ pregnant,
✘ holding shit down,
and
✘ not physically fucking repulsive?

🤡💀🧌

lol.
bro!

yo, ok.
i don’t usually go here,
but fuck it 🫡
cuz be for real— i lost
✘ my life savings,
✘ tuition fund,
✘ vehicle,
✘ ✘ and two fucking policies.

and shit—
almost my fucking IRA.

so fuck it.
let’s do this.

office emotional goblin:
👠👹🧌💸✨
ok.
…
yikes.
ok…wait…but…
for real?!—
yes
the personality
was…
🧌💸✨ bleak.
but bro.
her skin?—
lol. yo.
seriously
rough to look at
while consuming food.
but honestly (!)
🧌 the face…
in general?
yo…like i said,
some of us
fucked
too many
cousins
on the family tree.
🧌🧌💋
—
but woof.
ok.
but…
her teeth?
🧟‍♀️🦷🧌
my guy (!)—
this girl is “rich”
(???!) 💸🧌
yo, looks like the
before photo,
and you still
risked it all—
for
that?
legendary self-esteem, king.🧌🔥👑

meanwhile me:
your 💋 “dream girl”—
you said it,
a lot—
not me.
but you literally
couldn’t stop yourself
from lying,
cheating,
or tanking our entire lives
for a fucking
dental warning story
who couldn’t
even keep you around
unless she venmo’d you
while your wifey
was home preggo?

the man. the myth.

the reality:
my dude,
you had
every ✨
fucking
chance
to just walk away. 🚪🏃‍♂️🦷👹🚗
i would have
been
too fucking exhausted
to
extensively
document
your fucking domestic crimes.
like bro—
all you had to do was:
pay something in support,
let me breathe,
move the fuck on (!)
but no,
✨ you’re a little bitch.
so of course
you picked:
scorched fucking earth,
while you built
a fake “hustle”
and a real-life
office
fucking
disaster,
📲💰🤰🥊💥
and now
everyone
who touched that shit—
is gunna get their
hands fucking
dirty
permanently
fucking
marked.
🤯
but hey
don’t feel bad
at least that shit was—
✨ funded exclusively
by my
savings,
equity,
and fucking
insurance payments. ✨

but here’s the real
fucking hilarious part:
💀
yo.
you could’ve just left.
💀🪦
you could’ve just fucking walked.
you could’ve even
kept
the awkward
side goblin
and the subsidized commute
to fucking nowhere.
but naaaaahh—
you had to fuck with me. 🐲
repeatedly.
call the boys. ✨
drain our accounts, ✨
pay nothing, ✨
lie about
everything 💀✨
bro—
you tried to erase me,
and then
steal my kid’s fucking policies,
then gaslight me
out of my own
fucking
life.

so now?
babe.
💀💀💀
lol yo.
you fucked up.
now i’m activated. 💋

my dude.
i’m tracking id logs,
recording
every
fucking
email,
my sweet, pathetic—
disdain of my life, 💋🐲
now i am
fucking out here
timestamping fucking
venmo receipts,
looking up documents,
and lease terminations.
honey,
you weren’t commuting
for work—
you were making
the world’s
most fucking
stupid,
consequential,
horrifically litigious +
financially detrimental =
side trip
of all
fucking
time.

nice work.

congrats
on your only sales record:
selling yourself
short.

and i think?…
to fucking hell.

😢🎻

💋

the boy mom agenda✨: how to raise a monster and blame the wife™ 🙈🙉🙊

aka: raised by silence, crowned by violence

✶

bro—
boy moms?
raising certified assholes 🤰✨
teaching silence = loyalty
love means looking
the other fucking way
the classic watcher
from the sidelines
“shocked” by the fire
while holding
the fucking matches
never water in your hands,
just the fucking lighter fluid

yo. truly—
boy-moms are:
the original fucking enablers™
raising true demons
telling women to
shut the fuck up
and survive it.

my mom?
bro—
L O L
covered her fucking ears,
shut her fucking eyes
while one brother
drinks himself
into fucking oblivion?
screams
the absolute
foulest shit
at every
woman
in sight?

“verbal abuse”?
lol
just noise, bro.
she doesn’t wanna hear it.
it’s never fucking real enough
to acknowledge or
even?
maybe?
stop that shit?

like—god damn.
this is your spawn. ✨

other brother?
golden boy deluxe 2.0
cheats on a pregnant wife?
babe—
gets caught (!!)
red-fucking-handed
bro—
he walks away clean
while she’s left
RIGHTFULLY—
pissed the fuck off.

and guess who’s the problem?
always her
the wife
the one left holding
the fucking mess
never the bastard
who caused the fucking
damage.

babe—
i’m the one
calling my own family out
telling them to shut their
lying fucking mouths
when they drag my
sisters-in-law
through the fucking mud
because they can’t face
their own cowardice
and
monstrous
fucking
offspring.

yo—
i shit you not.
boy moms build
empires
on silence and denial
their sons so insulated
from repercussions—
raised to hurt without
a single fucking consequence
🙈🙉🙊✨

they watch
the house fucking burn
hands soaked in gasoline
but clutch
their fucking bibles
and pearls tight
like innocence means shit

casually cancel visits
right when the law
comes knocking?
when the truth slams
the fucking door?
they vanish like the
fucking cowards they are

they heard the screams
came,
saw—
and fucking left.
🙈🙉🙊✨
never lifted
a goddamn fucking finger
never said a word
just turned their backs
and walked the fuck away. ✨

babe—
this ain’t accident shit—
it’s calculated.
it’s generational violence
disguised as love
and boy-loyalty

boy moms raise sons
built to break shit
and people—mostly women.
and when the world
finally calls them out
they play
innocent little ghosts
too scared to haunt
their own fucking mess

“i don’t wanna be involved”
means
✨ “i don’t wanna
pay for
the fucking
monsters
i helped build” ✨

fuck the boy mom agenda
fuck their silent sponsorship of violence
fuck their enabling-ass excuses

✶

i mean this—
for
fucking
real.

i am done
carrying monsters
done swallowing
y’alls bullshit

fix your own
goddamn sons.

they’re
a fucking nightmare.

🙈🙉🙊✨

💌 a brief message from the uninvolved™

aka: the math ain’t mathing, grandma.
aka: the original enabler
aka: she was never coming—just needed to look like she gave a shit.

✶

months ago:
a “visit” was scheduled.
a grandma trip to see
the baby she doesn’t know—
because why bother
when it’s easier to be
the avoidant co-signer?

babe—
my mom taught me
the same
avoidant-mom playbook.™
shit gets awkward?
gets real?
🤡🪞✨
avoid,
deflect,
fucking ghost 😶‍🌫—
(in my mom’s case:
start fucking gardening)
😶‍🌫🌱🪴☀️
pretend you don’t
fucking hear shit.
standard passive-aggressive,
lack of accountability
boy mom move.™

but get this—
this masterclass in bullshit
happened after
she had front row seats
to her son
turning my life
into a fucking
dumpster fire. 🗑️🔥

bro.
this visit was scheduled
after everything. 👏🏻👏🏻
after she ignored the bruises.
after she stayed silent
about the theft,
the lies,
the addiction,
and fucking violence.
after she watched her son
leave us destitute,
on food stamps,
court-ordered child support unpaid,
and said nothing.

and even then?

i still welcomed her.
with open fucking arms.

i let her come.
to the home her son
abandoned.
to see the child
he left behind.
to the life she pretends
she’s disconnected from
but watches anyway.
yo—
again.
i welcomed that
violent boy-mom enabler
🫣🤰🥊💥
because
i’m not
the fucking monster here.

🧠 so let’s decode this bitch energy:

this ain’t “uninvolved.”
this is the classic
mother-of-a-narcissist playbook.

it’s the “oh honey,
he’s just misunderstood” routine.
the “why are you so angry—
you’re the drama queen” bullshit.
the silent nod
of fucking approval
wrapped in
passive-aggressive
fake ass niceties

baby.
she ain’t avoiding drama—
she’s ducking her role
in the
fucking disaster.

truly—
let’s run back the
✨ timeline of the great fucking betrayal:

everyone warned her.
me.
family.
his exes.
probably fucking
strangers
on the fucking internet.
the bruises,
the negative bank balances,
the lies,
the violence,
the fucking pill addiction,
the court dockets,
the stalking,
the goddamn fucking circus.
🫣🤰🥊💥🫣

and her answer?

“hmmm…i don’t want to be involved.”

cool.
great.
thanks for the input—
you are
a
true legend. 🕊️

when you were in danger?
she stayed silent.
🫣🤰🥊💥🫣

when he is in danger?
she plays sick.
🦠🤒🩺🧑‍⚕️😷

maybe because??—
✨ the charges hit?
you know?
fucking court dates?
potentially…
arrest logs?
real shit?
because
reality really
fucking sucks—
right?

babe—
i’ve been living in it.
while you stuck
your fucking
head in the sand.

and just days before
the months-long
scheduled
“love bombing”
i’m a real grandma visit?

✨ “i have an undisclosed random health issue.”

translation:
“oh hell no,
not the consequences
of his own fucking…
actions—
not my son’s monster ass
catching real heat.”
pull the plug,
cancel the guilt trip,
and peace out like
the fucking
cowards they are.

but now that the truth is public?
now that people
might start asking
her real fucking questions?

she’s out.
quick.
quiet.
uninvolved™.
✨

what’s really going on here?

when you were alone,
bleeding,
broke,
holding the baby?
🤰🥊💥🙈🙉🙊
she didn’t want to
“choose sides.”
she was like—
nah—can’t see this shit.
but when he started
facing real…
blows?
she suddenly turned into
the delicate porcelain doll
with undescript
“health issues.”

because
📢❗🚨
being grandma
is only convenient
when it doesn’t require
actual fucking accountability.
✨

yo—
i’ve seen this
mom-move™
🤡
so
many
times.

because babe—
those
boy moms?™
the ones who say:
“he’s a good person—
deep down”
they don’t want peace.
they want
plausible deniability. ✨

sweetie—
this isn’t passive.
this is
covert fucking violence.

this is what happens
when the mothers
of a dangerous man
refuse to break the mirror
because they see too much
of themselves
in the fucking reflection.
🤡🪞✨

babe—
she wasn’t
“avoiding drama.”
she was avoiding any
fucking ✨ responsibility.

✶

yo,
truly?
this shit
is fucking
✨poetic✨
💔🤝🕊️

but hey.
thanks for
utterly failing us—
once again, ma.

🤰🥊💥

🤘hot topic meltdown: the white boy faux rebellion💀🧷🔥

lol.
this one
is purely
for my own
comic relief.

🤘 🎸 🎤 💀 ☠️ 🧷 ⛓️ 🧥 🥾 ⚡ 🔥 🏴 ✊ 📢 🔪

ok—like
can we finally fucking say it?

middle-class white boys
with every playstation update
who found
blink-182 at the mall
and thought getting a bass guitar
and a “fuck authority” sticker
meant they were
fighting the system 🤘

were actually just
emotionally neglected
golden retrievers 💀
with no bite, no bars,
just a stepdad they mildly disliked
and a fantasy of being misunderstood
because their mom
wouldn’t let them vape inside. ✊

like babe—
you’re punk?
💀💀 lol.
like??
ok. yeah.
bro—
the fucking antithesis.
you understand that—
punk was disruptive survival,
a fucking diy rebellion
against systemic injustice.
punk meant fucking
⚡ danger, my guy.
not…
🇺🇸🇺🇸🤘
signing up
for the most fucking
inflated military budget on the planet 🔥 🔥
🔥 🤘🪖🎖️💊🇺🇸
and crying about it
because you didn’t know
what to do
when the
college fund ran out.

like congrats on enlisting in
the literal oppressor industrial complex™,
just so you could
sit in a climate-controlled box
in the middle east,
eating hot cheetos
and calling it “war.” 💀🇺🇸

you didn’t survive trauma.
you survived insanely overfunded
🇺🇸 orchestrated fuckery 🇺🇸
and a couple of sandstorms
while you terrorized brown kids
with billion-dollar toys.

🫡☠️💅🍒💀
L O L

(wait but, moment of respect
for the actually fucking terrorized)
✝️

bro.
you were not
fighting for freedom.
you were fighting
to avoid student loans
and feel something.
🫡☠️

punk?
punk is squatting a house
because capitalism
shit you out.
punk is stealing bread
for your little sister.
punk is resisting the machine.

BABE.

you were the machine. 💀💀💀

grow the fuck up.
you didn’t fight oppression.
🔫 you fought wifi outages.

but punk?

punk meant screaming
until your voice broke
because the state stole
your first fucking breath.

but you?
sweetie,
absolute
never-love-of-my-fucking-life,
you didn’t grow up persecuted.
you grew up in
a four-bedroom house
with central air conditioning,
a pantry full of fucking gushers,
and summer camp paid
for by your stepdad’s job.
🍕🏡🎢🎮

and babe,
my ex-malignant—
let’s be
so for fucking real.
that is not punk.
that’s
"mom can you pick me up from the skate park"
in human form.
🤘🔥💀

baby—
punk is fucking trauma.
punk is survival.
punk is being
chewed up by the state
and spitting blood
in its fucking face.

punk is not:

✨“i enlisted because i fucked up college”✨

💀💀

and then got
a sum 41 tattoo
after moshing once
at warped tour
in 2010
in cargo shorts.

baby!
that’s not rebellion.
that’s a pale dude
privilege tantrum
in camouflage.
trying to figure out
headbanging. 💀

punk is not
a fucking aesthetic.
it’s not your nfg cover
punk is watching
your whole life collapse
because some white boy
with a guitar and a
narcissistic personality type
couldn’t regulate his nervous system
and decided to make
that your fucking
problem.

so no.
you were never punk.
you were just
a suburban misogynist
with a hot topic nose ring—
and probably a porn addiction.

but go off, king.
sing about your ex.
from your mom’s guest room.

🖕🧃✝️💀🔊🧼

things i need to say to mothers: letter no. 004 — white flag 🏳️

ok, look.
i'm gonna switch it up,
because honestly,
this rage could fucking
swallow me whole,
and i just—
i can't let it.
i'm somebody’s mommy.

and on that vibe?
i’m my best self—
so i’m writing this for you.
you’ll know.

✶

🏳️ 🏳️ 🏳️ 🏳️

and like,
this ain't even about throwing shots,
though girl,
you moved real fucking shitty.
we both know that.
but listen,
i’m actually sorry,
like deadass sorry,
that this is where we landed.
i swear to god,
even thinking about you
like? fucking chills, bro.
not ‘cause i hate you.
not ‘cause i want a fucking war.
just ‘cause...
fuuuuuck.
you
reeeaaalllllllllllyyyyyy
hurt me.
you took
something from me
a whole life,
an experience—
we both know
neither of us can ever get back.
but yo, seriously—
the most twisted part?
i would’ve given it to you.
willingly.
all fucking
heartbroken and shit.
if you hadn’t disrespected it
like it wasn’t shit.

yo. that killed me.

shit,
i swear on my fucking kids—
sammi included,
that if y’all ended up
together,
i would’ve fucking smiled
through my absolute
heart-obliteration,
because at least
something real,
something good
came from this
absolute fucking atrocity.

like—
this ain’t a competition,
it’s a fucking graveyard.
i know this doesn’t make sense,
but i would’ve celebrated your win.
even if it left me all fucked up.

and when i saw
you lock down
that new family,
quick as shit,
ring on your finger,
another baby,
i was like,
alright bet,
good for you,
truly.

also, nice work. 💅
damn—quick.
lol. i feel you.
i low key
clapped for you.
silently.
from across the fucking country.

and bro—
way back then?
like during the saddest part?
when you dm’d me?
bro—
i was running on
heartbreak fumes.
but dude,
you know i showed up.
every fucking offering was real.
i wasn’t just trying to be
sneaky or some shit.
bro—
on my heart:
i fucking loved him,
he was my family,
and that meant you could be too,
you and your babies—
our babies.
i was trying to fucking love you.

do you know how insane that is?
do you know how deeply
you have to love a dude
to try and love his betrayal too?
like maybe if i love her,
i won’t collapse.

but damn,
you never saw me.
you never even fucking tried
to understand
the weight of my loss—
planned future,
best friend,
love-of-your-life kinda shit,
torn out from under me,
left bleeding out
on your fucking doorstep.

but nah.

you cut me off like i was a liability.
after everything.
like i was the threat.
like i was the drama.

girl.
you treat everyone like the op.
and it’s not a fucking flex.
it’s not self-protection.
it’s self-sabotage.

yo—
even through the pain,
i didn't even blame you
for the initial mess,
we weren’t together,
shit happens.
but it was the aftermath
that got me fucked up—
you playing games
with all of it.
with birth certificates,
with weird criminal vengeance,
with clear disloyalty,
holding the baby hostage,
treating everyone
like they're the fucking enemy,
cutting me off
so fucking cold
when all i tried
was to give it
to you fucking straight.

like,
i know that hurt,
but,
can you imagine???
me???
like seriously.

bro,
i’m not even exaggerating,
even after everything,
the whole life,
of abandonment and pain—
this was the worst part.
because it was,
everything
that i never
ever
ever
had.

safety.
love.
security.
trust.
vision.
softness.
protection.

it was my fucking miracle.
whatever—
mock me.

and poof.
and i still tried.

shit, girl,
i spent dough on your party,
whole time,
straight tripping like—
damn,
we planned this life.
but i cried.
(for a very long time)
got up.
and amazon’ed-primed you
some more fucking decor.
bro—
my homies bought you gifts,
i truly planned shit,
and you acted like
even i—was the op?
shit.
i was the one
who had your back
when nobody else wanted to.
you fucked me up,
moved like you never knew me.
and it’s sad.
because
i wasn’t faking it.
lol—
i don’t even know
how to move weird.
all shady and shit,
girl, i out myself.
because i can’t.
feels icky.

for real.
even recently?
yo—on my baby.
i was ready to show up
for your kid.
for your other kid.
to take them with mine,
love them all.
with you.
be the fucking village.
be the peace treaty.
i even said,
“i could help her,
even love her—
even now”

but naaah.
y’all always gotta be lying.
and idk why.
truly.
like y’all give me
zero option
but to actually
have to be
the fucking
opposition.
because i’m out here,
all clueless,
and every move—
is a fucking trap
when you’re walking around
in the fucking dark.

but seriously dude,
you didn’t show up for me—
not once.
even when you came back?
and i let you back in?
hearts and shit?
refollow?
girl…
months…
nada?
but he can’t speak to me?
yo,
you shoulda just told me truth.
asked for help.
whatever.
you know for a fucking fact—
i would have
helped
you.
with whatever it was—
even if they were both being,
fucking dickheads.
even if you wanted out.
fucking duh.

but for real…
i say this from
the hurt place,
why couldn’t you see
how fucked up
this all had me?
like truly broken?
like after everything?

babe—
as an older girlie,
that used to truly
fuck with you,
you don’t win
by hoarding pain
like it’s leverage.
you win by moving clean.
by doing what’s right.
by honoring
the people who had you
when they had every right
to blow shit up.

and yeah.
he told me to go
eat shit and die.
but you?
you just acted like
i never existed.
like i was a glitch
in the simulation.
like i didn’t spend years
building something
he swore was forever.

girl,
i don’t hate you.
but you haunt me.
because we could’ve
been something holy.
but even when
i tried to make it not ugly?
you moved like i was the enemy
and now i’m just someone
you’ll avoid eye contact with
for the rest of your life.
pretend never existed.

and the wildest part?
i still want you to be okay.
i still care about
both those kids.
i still remember
every moment
that could’ve
made this easier for all of us
if just one of you
had the guts
to be fucking honest.

and if one day
you circle back—
if you ever wanna look me
dead in the eye and say,
“yeah. i moved wrong.”
i’ll be here.

but for now?
i’ll say it for you:
thank you.
for trying.
for the parts you meant.
for reminding me what love isn’t.
and for proving i can survive
epic levels of betrayal.
even when i wanna
jump off a fucking building.

i hope you,
find your heart.
find what you want.
raise your babies
in soft light,
loud music
lots of smiles.

✶

😐🩸✨
no beef.
just the imagined delusion
of what could have been.
that i wrote
all by my damn self.

—s.l.l.

the fudiciary and the likely felon: let’s “circle back” 🙃🔁✨🌈🕊️

yo.
for those of you wondering
what the fuck is going on—

✨i’m a little bit—angry, y’all✨

✶

here’s a quick lil synopsis:

my husband got recruited
by some mid-level financial firm
i was brought in-office,
given the pep talk—
support him ($$),
this will totally be worth it!
while i was visibly preggo,
working multiple jobs,
cleaning houses,
and draining my life savings
because apparently this was a team sport.

sound like?
if one party reasonably relied
on a promise to their detriment…

hmmmmm.

YO.
worst financial decision
of.
my.
life.

he drained it all,
left me with the debt—

but the extra fun—
litigious part?

turns out
there was a chick at the firm
who got
so awkwardly close to him
that even his coworkers
thought it was sus—
like so sus—
the felt fucking brazen enough
to lmk my girl had to be
removed from my account,
post-protective-order,
cuz “lol, it’s awkward”
✨🌈🕊️
l o l.
babe…when tho?
cuz like—
when she was my rep?
or when she was his co-worker?
or both?
cuz like—
not awkward enough
for y’all…to say anything
like yo—
bitch, could you
divulge anything legally relevant?
jesus christ.
like—do you not
have a fucking duty…???
to be like…
🔉🔉 hey girl— (!!!)
this man is playing you, (!!!)
stop financially
fucking yourself. (!!!)
or maybe (!)
toss out a formal
fucking disclosure or two.

the fuck???????

fun fact:
as their relationship
got increasingly weird,
so did his late-night “errands,”
the door closing when she facetimed,
and hey, what do you know—
the FUCKING severity
of me getting
my FUCKING ass kicked.

i mean,
ping ping PING,
and suddenly
lol—
📲🔁🥊💥
it’s tackling,
smothering,
strangling,
full-blown
punch-to-the-head vibes,
flat on my back,
nine months pregnant.
🤰🥊💥

y’all saw
nothing
weird, tho?
🚩🚩🚩
hmmmmm.
just another day at the office,
i guess. 🕊️🕊️🕊️

then,
january 2024,
days before i’m due.
and this chick
casually gets assigned as—
wait for it—🚩🚩
✨ my personal financial rep. ✨

because who
wouldn’t want
their husband’s
✨lil work-bestie✨
managing their accounts,
right?

💡 unclear—
i was purely worried about
staying alive✨🌈🕊️
at the above-described time.
🙃🙃🙃

and right after onboarding,
i mean like
days later,
less than
a fucking week—
i literally almost
lose my unborn kid
because 💥 violence escalated
right alongside
the FUCKING venmo pings
📲🤰🥊💥
she kept casually sliding him
with zero reasonable
explanation or context. 🥊 ✨

(besides maybe…
taking advantage
of my vulnerability?
while also my financial rep?
got it. ✨)

but again,
i guess no disclosures necessary,
team?
cool, cool, cool. 👏

i was just a hostage
🤰🤰🤰🥊 ✨
of a violent
and manipulative
nightmare 💀
but thanks for
potentially,
presumably,
possibly,

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

✨ aiding and fucking abetting ✨
the whole fucking operation—
and
😈 ✨ concievably,
fucking with my ability
to make sound decisions around:
→ my money,
→ my safety,
→ and my fucking life.
!!!!
→ oh and my kid’s fucking policy (!!!!)
→ all while assumably failing to disclose:
an ✨ acknowledged conflict of interest ✨

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

damn y’all.
like—
why did you gotta
potentially do me like that?

anyway.

fast forward
to when it finally hits
public record ✨
and my fucking
private socials✨—
that my husband’s an actual
violent abuser. 🤰🥊 ✨
…
with zero disclosure:
public record says—
✨within weeks,✨
miss fiduciary 👹💅
dips the fuck outta dodge
like she never fucking existed,
tells me nothing—
says nothing.
quits her job,
apartment,
whole fucking city—
bro—
leaves zero fucking trace—
besides my new rep
letting me know—
shit was awkward with
my legal husband.
💅🥴
lol!

awkward
like how policies
i was funding,
got fucked? ✨
or—
awkward like
her entire
undocumented
conflict of interest
while i fucking lost—
all 💀💀
financial stability
and almost—
my fucking life?! ✨

yooooooooo.

a fact that
that you still—
fail
to fucking disclose
in any
formal
capacity??
just vibes??
and lil “hostile” wife drops??

damn bro. 💀💀

but no worries— ✨
i’m still here
with my cute
✨ lil breach binder
that’s fat as fuck,
filled with receipts,
timestamps,
and records,
so unless
y’all got
a FUCKING wizard 🧙
to rewind reality,
i already got enough
👼 causes of action 👼
to light this firm up
like the fucking fourth of july
🧨🎪🃏🎉🎆
without even dipping
into discovery yet.

team,
besties,
fiduciaries:
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
if this is just
the shit i casually know
without even trying???—
i promise discovery’s about to be
awkward af for y’all. 🍿

hope you got
good counsel,
because i’m
a lil upset.
🌈🕊️👸🔥

let’s gooooo.
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥


✶

🌈🕊️👸💖✨ disclaimer: i am not a lawyer—
this is purely my personal, opinionated breakdown of events based on public records, internal communications, and my lived experience. nothing herein constitutes legal advice. all factual assertions are supported by documentation in my breach binder; any statements that aren’t proven fact are clearly presented as my own hot take.

insurance greek life for the terminally mid 🏛️💀

fuck your club, fuck your secrets, fuck your legacy

—

yo, honestly.
every time i check
the receipts
i get a little more
pissed the fuck off. 🔥🧨💥

here’s the thing
about you little
mid-level
wannabe power players:
aka: 🐀📈🧢 🧃

y’all thought 💡—
i was gunna disappear. 🫥
yo—
cuz most wives would have?
that was the plan, right?
god damn. so—
draft me, 😐✨
rob me, 😐✨
laugh about it 😐✨
in your dead little ass
cubicle-boy golf club?
💀
lol.
nah.
i don’t fucking think so.

so let’s really break down the delusion:

what do you get
when you cross
the world’s saddest frat,
a linkedin support group,
and the off-brand
wolf of wall street fucking cosplay?
🏛️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️
these fuckers.
💀💀💀

…
cool, dude.

💀🥇

every guy here?
never pulled a girl
sober in his life. ✨

bro,
the funny thing?
i was never gunna—
shut the fuck up.
lol—
y’all smirking about how
“some wives are so crazy?”
🔪🥲
nah.
y’all really fucked
with the wrong bitch.
🤡🤡🤡
because—
lol. fuck that.
let’s get forensic bitches.

because honestly?
this shit is pathetic.
and fucking disgusting.
and you need
✨ consequences
for your
fucking actions ✨
and i’m a little
fucking angry.
🙃✨

because—for real?
i’m gunna hold
every single one of you
fuckers
accountable
for your huge fucking
fiduciary failures.
🙃💵🔪

—

babe—
what you really built?
a knockoff frat
🏛️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧢
for mediocre-ass people
with inherited money 💰🍼
and weaponized fucking boredom.
all those late-night
strategy sessions—
was that before or after
you split the venmo
for gaslighting a pregnant woman?
it’s a club for
🏆 the never-hot,
🏆 the never-cool,
🏆 the never-interesting,
🏆 the suck-ups,
the never fucking had
one single fucking original thought crew
the ones who peaked at
“sheriff and fucking loser”
not even evil-genius-villains.
just terminally fucking basic.

bro—✨👨‍⚖️

the men?
fuck. like—
pathetic.
🐀📈🧢
the kind of sad
that clings to punk,
like they didn’t grow up
with two parents
and a fucking nanny.
boujie-ass vacations and shit.
my guy—
your only real flex
is running a client-list
with your dad’s name on it.
🧃💼🛴
living proof—
you can buy a linkedin premium
but not a personality.
every “shark” in this office
is a guppy with a vape
and a family lawyer on speed-dial.
jesus fucking christ.
i’m already annoyed. 🧨

the women?
lol.
the most basic bitches ever.
you’re what happens
when pick-me energy goes unchecked
and un-fucking-moisturized.
💅🥴💔
no threat,
no mystery,
just a revolving door
of side characters
trying to get cast as “the cool girl”
in a club no one wants to join.
bad bitch energy?
🤡
lol girl,
it’s giving,
talked shit on her own bestie
to get a boy to like her.
👠👹
ew.
complicit,
jealous,
basic—
always down bad
for the sloppiest men in the room. 🫡
if the glass ceiling ever breaks in here
it’s just gonna fall on you,
like damn—
and you’ll thank the guy who dropped it.
like—wow, thanks babe.

and the culture? 🐍
peak mid.
every happy hour,
a networking event
for the emotionally bankrupt.
every group selfie,
a cry for fucking help.
you brag about “running denver”
but you can’t even run
your own fucking firm.
imagine thinking you’re dangerous
because you upsell whole life
to a fucking teacher’s aide.
bro, no one in the real world—
thinks this shit is cool.
trust me.

what did you actually accomplish?
you engineered a little
trauma circle jerk—
a low-level dating app
for the insurance-mid-tier
desperate type
💋💸🤝
fucking attempted
to bulldoze over
a pregnant woman
who 💅 outmaneuvered you
in every metric but family money.
you truly,
truly— 😈
fucked with the wrong one,
and now you’re gonna eat
your own groupthink bullshit.

i want you to know—
🫵 every dollar,
🫵 every “awkward” coverup,
🫵 every ugly DM,
i’m counting it up.
i want you to see me
do the math,
because every fucking penny
is coming out of
🫵 your trust funds,
🫵 out of your portfolios.
🫵 out of your fucking equity.
💸🏦📉
and i hope you feel it
every time you check your balance
and remember
you can’t expense fucking shame
or liability.

✍️ here’s the part
you should really remember:

babe!
those big brags?
✨💸
the cash,
the petty material crap,
the legacy shit,
the fake status delusion—
you used,
to feel
🙃 above me.
babe, perfect.✨
i’m coming for all of it. 💋

and no babe—
not because i’m a bitch—
nah, not at all.
because after what you did?
you need
a fucking ✨ reality check.
lesson incoming.
penalty fucking due.
i almost died 🖕
LIKE—
TRULY.
because your little mid-ass
insurance wolfpack
needed to feel
fucking relevant.

🖕🖕🖕

let’s cut the fucking shit.

💥 fuck your family.
💥 fuck your frat.
💥 fuck your financial firm.

babe, i’m here for my cut.

i was dead inside before you started.
now i’m just pissed. 😈🙃
and i hope you wake up
every day
with my name
in your fucking nightmares.
👻💅

because—
hey.
y’all?

you sweating?
lol. 🙃
cuz girl.

i’m coming
FOR FUCKING
ALL OF IT.

💋

🏛️💥

✨i’ll testify against myself 💋

🗂️ exhibit a: the part where you think you're gonna find something i haven't already fucking said
💀☕🪦🧃📂👁️

bro ok here—
y’all are petty.
here it is 💋
since some of y’all been
refreshing my site
🎪🤡📸
literally obsessed
scrolling every. fucking. page. 💀
(scared, huh?) 🤡🤡
deadass like you're
billing hours to the devil.
yo. 😵‍💫
let me make it easy.

✨i’ll just testify against myself✨

hi. 💋
yes.
welcome to the trauma files™
i'm your host
the allegedly
unhinged single mom
with a baddie dog,
a fucking chip on my shoulder—
and a full-ass history of
“shit no one should see:
volumes: 1-3485”

you want the
slanderous shit?
girl okay.

🔥 let’s open the fucking vault, babe:

▸ i have a learning disability. 🧃🧠
▸ i grew up in fucking chaos.
like, actual—CPS-where the fuck you at?
level shit. 🥀
▸ i didn’t do drugs.
not because i’m on
some 🙏🏻 mother mary 🙏🏻 shit—
just because i think 😈 men 😈
are fucking predators. 🧌🧌
and they prey on the weak,
and vulnerable. 🦄🌈🕊️
▸ i did get raped in college.
by a homie. 🐲
and guess what?
i still got a fucking vendetta.
▸ i used to have anxiety attacks
on the reg.
shaking and shit.
nervous system overload.
but now i’m way better. ✨
▸ i chain smoke 🚬😮‍💨
so i don’t form other habits.
▸ i bartended
while running two businesses
and trying to go to fucking law school.
👏😐📉
▸ i miscarried the child 🪦
of someone i actually loved.
he died that day too.
i’ll never get over it.
🦄🌈🕊️
▸ then i married
a fucking troll. 🐲

💅 and i still got up
and went to fucking work.

what else…
▸ i got kicked outta law school once.
i’m a slow reader, bro. 💀
and i don’t like to ask for help.
😢🎻
▸ got back in. big yay. (seriously ilysm) ⚖️🦄🌈🕊️💖✨
▸ now i am fucking
busting my 🥵 fucking 🥵 balls 🥵
like my life fucking depends on it.
because it literally fucking does.
▸ i don’t drink.
i don’t…like…go out.
▸ i don’t hit or abuse my kid. 💀👑
▸ i write. so i don’t end up
in fucking jail. 🏛️
from the rage, bro.
from the betrayal.
▸ i curse a lot. lol
i’m from jersey, asshole.

so yeah,
what’s up?
you’re digging for dirt?
open fucking book.

🗂️ exhibit b: hypothetical defenses from people who are wrong for a living
*with annotated fuckery response 🎠🎡🎪🎲🃏🎉

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s unstable, your honor.”
👼 OBJECTION: calls for speculation.
⚖️ RESPONSE: unstable?
babe—i’m functioning under fuckery.
i’m unstable like a
female-run startup:
underfunded,
exhausted,
and still
⭐ outperforming your whole fucking squad. ⭐
babe—i dissociate,
then i outline my legal memo.
cry at 1,
construct the elements of a tort at 2.
baby—
schedule that shit.

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s just trying to get attention with this trauma diary.”
👼 OBJECTION: irrelevant.
⚖️ RESPONSE: yeah. attention from state agencies.
attention from regulators.

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s angry. she’s emotional.” 🐸🐸
👼 OBJECTION: your honor, this is some sexist shit.
⚖️ RESPONSE: no shit i’m emotional.
i’m out here trying to survive
an audacious level of abuse,
betrayal,
and student debt
with a baby.
but go off. 🔥🔥
tell me more about
how crying while filing federal forms
makes me unfit.
lol sure.

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s just bitter because she got left.”
👼 OBJECTION: irrelevant and hysterical.
⚖️ RESPONSE: i filed the complaint.
changed the locks.
requested sole custody.
survived the consequences.

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s trying to ruin reputations.”
👼 OBJECTION: truth is a defense to defamation, babe.
⚖️ RESPONSE: babe—
my whole theory is just screenshots.
i barely have a fucking narrative,
besides—
wtf is this shit????!!

🐲 DEFENSE: “she’s dangerous.”
👼 OBJECTION: again, calls for projection.
⚖️ RESPONSE: nah, never,
only when i have to
fight for my fucking life.

FINAL NOTE TO OPPOSING COUNSEL:
💀💀💀
you want to find some shit?
bitch, go ahead. ⚡
i’ve already archived
my biggest losses
my worst choices
and the darkest shit i’ve survived.
you want to cut my breakdowns
out of context?
go ahead.
you already look like—
huge
fucking
dickheads.
💀💀💀

✨ keep going ✨

lol.
you don’t scare me.
🤡🍿🍦🎪🎈
like
nooooo—
they’re gunna send
👹 threatening paperwork.
to intimidate me.

🔪✨

bet—
i’ll post that shit.
because you got money—
i got people that think i’m funny. 😈
and babe?—
i’ve dodged fists.
y’all have ✨ mean legal threats ✨
with zero lawful teeth.
because—
let’s be fucking real.
you are the fucking villain.

👹👹👹👹

and lol
seriously,
we allllllll fucking know—
(that’s why you’re acting weird)
i’m the only one
with a real claim. ✨

🌈🕊️👸💖✨

and shit—
it’s a
biggie—
babe.

💋

ANTI-SLAPP? MORE LIKE ⋆✴︎ANTI-SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP LAW⋆✴︎⋆

✶

imagine this:
you’re a completely under-resourced,
broke af single mom,
3 AM on your laptop,
BEGGING a billion-dollar
financial firm
to just
loop me the fuck in
on a fucking disclosed
✨ conflict of interest—
involving my money
and safety—
and you know, something
y’all should have already fucking done
wasting my fucking time.
looking up codes,
scanning documents,
because,
babe ✨ the math ain’t mathing ✨
so what do they do?
when i start asking questions?

they gaslight you. 🤡
the ignore you. 🤫

then 💡
while you’re
pleading for fucking help,
you spot some hometown
major insurance-defense firm
crawling every trauma-blog post
you’ve ever written. 👀🏃‍♂️💀

hi y’all!!!
😐👋

babe,
how fucked are they?
yo—
💀 i don’t have a law degree.
girl,
💀 i don’t even have a lawyer.
i’m just typing shit—
truly legally
pissed-off emails at 3 AM.
because y’all are clearing
fucking me. ✨💀💀💀

and i want…
✨help✨

like—is this really what we’re doing 🐲
to vulnerable clients? 🦄🌈🕊️

lol.

but babe—
lemme break it down in coloradobro legal receipts:

• c.r.s. § 13-20-1101–1105 =
  your favorite anti-slapp shield
  when i post about your shitshow ✨

• restatement (third) of agency §§ 8.01–8.03 =
  you had a fiduciary duty, you shit the bed ✨

• c.r.s. § 6-1-105(1)(e),(u) =
  unlawful misrepresentations in insurance admin,
  checkmate bitch ✨

little man—
let me repeat,
i am not the villain here.
i’m the fucking victim.
😢🎻
😢🎻

i know,
wah
wah
wah
sad violin. 🎻

but babe—
are you fucking serious?

you’re a multi-billion dollar firm. 💀
gaslighting a client? 💀
because you,
fucked up? 💀🪦

how does this play with the jury? 🤔

babe—
🚩🚩
optics are TERRIBLE.

so go ahead—
threaten me with more
customer service holds.
with law firms that
cost more than
a semester of my tuition. 💸💸
like, damn homie,
you could have just
sent that cash to us?
lol.
since we’re all like—
impoverished and shit,
but go off.
file your “cease and desist.”
but babe?
should i go pro se?

🔥🔥 think of the headline:

👼 single mom, dv victim, trusting client.
pro se
(⚖️🦄🌈🕊️💖✨)

v.

🐲 giant insurance conglomerate.
w. legal trolls.
(⚖️🧌🤑💸🎪🃏)

(L O L) ⚔️

…

babe,
let’s go!!!
🎉

but can’t i like—
special-motion-dismiss
your fucking lame ass
under c.r.s. § 13-20-1102 ??
while you pay my fees (§ 1104)
???

lol. damn.
sucks when they can read statutes.
am i right?

my dudes—
remember?

this is you:

off-channel comms +
insider affair +
pregnant-dv warrant =
your new compliance crisis 🎉

babe,
you really
fucked with
the one woman
who had nothing to lose
and everything to gain
(and access to multiple law libraries)
by saying
YO WTF (?!)
out loud.

BABE—
i’m ready. 💅

are y’all?

because, clearly:

$16.5 M fine wasn’t enough?
here’s round two:
legal and public
come-to-jesus-moment

peace out,
you played yourselves boys. 😘

✶

COLORADO ANTI-SLAPP SHIELD

• ⚖️ C.R.S. § 13-20-1101: my blog & socials = protected “public expression.”

• ⚖️ § 13-20-1102: file special motion to dismiss if sued—bam, gone.

• ⚖️ § 13-20-1103: automatic stay of discovery = no bullshit demands.

• ⚖️ § 13-20-1104: fee-shifting = they pay legal fees. LOL.

• ⚖️ § 13-20-1105: they must prove i lied with reckless disregard—HAHA, good luck.

compliance horror stories, vol. 3: ✶ bro, from texting? → $16.5M 🤯💸

aka: “wait… for what???” 💸

classification: ☠️ regulatory humiliation · corporate fratboy energy · fucking divine justice
offender code: ✶ firm-who-shall-not-be-named

damn, kings
frat-boy-level-lack-of-supervision,
am i right? 💸🤑💰

noooOooOoOooo
stop.
shut the actual fuck up.

babe.
these full-ass
fucking fiduciaries— 🤑🎪
got caught… 💬 texting
for sixteen million dollars.
(!!!)

💀👑

like—what??
yo?
like 3 seconds ago??
seriously?
hold up.
wait.

it’s too fucking stupid.

like—
not me deep in my
lil ✨life is a crime scene✨ era
and finding out…

2024…
some legacy financial firm
with corny white-boy headshots
and really shitty taste in men…

got absolutely
body slammed 💪
by the SEC for—
wait for it…
💅 texting on the wrong phone.

like... that was the crime.

🧾 “recordkeeping failures”
💬 “off-channel communications”
🙈 “failed supervision”
📵 “employees using personal phones
to talk about money shit
they were supposed to be tracking”

yo.
are you
fucking serious?

🤯🤯
🤯🤯
🤯🤯

so like,
babe—
is this your thing?

just like—give no fucks?

even after that fine?
babe—the…highest?
$16.5 MILLION.
with an m.
for... not saving texts.
and shit?

LMFAO. 💀

and not just any firm.
no no no.
not just one.
three matching frat bro subsidiaries
in matching little fuckboi blue blazers.
🏌️🏌️🏌️
fucking around.
like triplets of incompetence.

💀🪦

bro—so,
they admitted it.
they paid that shit.
and then they swore they’d like…
totally try harder next time.
L O L

🤝🕊️💀

(i’m SCREAMING)

baby…
they weren’t just messy af.
they were group chat guilty.
like
🧠 “yeah let’s do wealth management”
💅 “but make it ✨undocumented✨”

meanwhile.
me?
🚩 flagging emails
🚩 begging compliance to stop fucking around
🚩 sending literal venmo screenshots
like… yo… you see this?

LMFAO.
how did you let this happen…
again
immediately (?!)

like—
bro, the timeline?

SAME TIME
YOU’RE IN COURT LIKE
“lol—yo, we are truly so sorry 🥺👉👈
we swear… never again.”

bro—you just had to babysit
your own fucking
fully-developed-adults.
🤡🤑🎪

but naaaahh.

PINGPINGPING $$$
my rep? =
⚡ venmo’s
⚡ facetimes
⚡ personal texts

seriously, wtf is this?

✨ corporate accountability
never looked so stupid.

so…?
lol undisclosed
“hey” 💰⚡ → $16.5M

ok.

🗣📢
🗣📢
🗣📢

👇
yo—
SEC,
come get ‘em—
babe.
this financial frat
🥇 learned absolutely fucking nothing.

compliance horror stories, vol. 2: ✶ google, “what is detrimental reliance?” 🤝🕊️

✶

yo,
💸💸💸
the absolute
most savage,
brutal,
and ironic part—
is that, lol
i came in peace.

🫱😐🕊️

really.
i wanted to build something.

i didn’t roll in
with some class-action attitude.
i was just a dumbass
who actually believed
in your “family” vibes,
your leadership pep talks,
and all that
legacy-building propaganda. 📈🪄

like, imagine this:
i fully liquidate my entire life—
school savings,
rainy day fund,
actual car (paid off, thanks)—
🚗💀🤡
co-signed another i couldn’t afford,
based on the dream—
because your team
swore up and down that
this was a
✨ safe financial decision.
and honestly?
i bought it. 🤡
i let my then-partner
chase his finance bro fantasies
with your “guidance,”
while i cleaned houses pregnant
and told myself,
“this is what building
generational stability looks like, babe.”
lmao.
i gave him my fucking car
so he could drive to your office
to “network” and “grow his book.”
(it’s fine, he totaled it. i only cried, like, once.)

i disclosed every personal
and financial detail—
my income,
my liabilities,
my health details,
my abuse history,
my actual mental state—
because your people
said that’s what family does.
i sat through the meetings,
shook hands,
smiled at the wives,
and straight-up trusted every word.

and bro.
seriously.
let’s not forget—
i literally turned my own life
into free fucking advertising for you.
i opened up my phone,
scrolled through
every contact,
handed him
hundreds of names—
family,
friends,
randoms—
so he could pitch
your values and loyalty
and sell those policies.
i vouched for y’all.
i posted about it,
talked about it,
tried to get the people i love
to trust your institution
the way i did.

i told my own community,
“they’re different.
this is safe.
they look out for you.”
🌈🕊️💖✨

shit: biggest lie i’ve ever told. 💀🪦

after all that?
after literally
going full on
fucking walking billboard,
sacrificing my dignity
for the cause,
bro—
i get erased.
paying for shit,
but removed as beneficiary?
taken off as owner?
when i’m the…
only parent?
and then fucking gaslit?
👏👏👏👏

bro.
wtf.

🤯

this is
like…a
billion
dollar
firm
(?!?!?)

💸🧟‍♀️
🤯🤯

🚨 why are you fucking with an active dv survivor????? 🚨

no, but really—
a single mom
with like $12
and only
a will to survive?
🧃🤯💳📉💀

when my own people
asked what happened?
when i couldn’t explain
why i’d been erased 🫥🤝
off my daughter’s policy,
the one my partner abandoned—
never paid a dime of support—
🚩🚩
(besides 1x ever,
when i mentioned my…
financial rep….
??!??!?!?!???
no really.)
🚩🚩
when i got zero notice,
i had nothing but silence,
a fuck ton of embarrassment—
and a hell of a lot of regret.

but wait—
could it get worse?

when the money ran dry
and my husband was actively
draining my credit cards
while i was literally
putting together
dollar-store-christmas-gifts
🧑‍🎄🧑‍🎄🧑‍🎄
for your squad,
i still didn’t question it.
i just kept showing up.
i kept trusting you.
is that…like…
detrimental reliance,
like…
something like that
right? 😐😐

truly—
broke,
single mom—
help me figure it out. 🧃🧃
you know,
just in case
anyone’s looking
to cite a tort.
(!!)

then the true
👑 “lol fuck you”—
the rep i thought was safe,
🚩🚩
my own financial girlie—
who,
let’s be honest,
was way too cozy
with my legal-other-half,
gets assigned to me,
🙃🙃🙃🙃
days before i give birth.
and do i flip out?
nah.
i let her in my home,
i let her hold my baby,
🙃
i try to fucking transfer
my last scrap
of an IRA to her.
🙃
(!!!!!!!!!)
like,
that’s how much
i trusted your “culture.” lol.

even as i’m broke, 🚩
literally fucking battered, 🚩
on food stamps, 🚩
escaping cross-country, 🚩
because my life’s
gone full house fire—
🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩
even then,
i still don’t lose it on y’all.

i kept it professional.
i kept it friendly.
i still trusted you.

🫠💀💀

i literally
reach out for help.
i tell you the truth:
i can’t access
my own kid’s policy,
we’re not safe,
he’s a fucking disaster,
and we’re both at high risk.

and suddenly?
your answer
is to label me “hostile.”
not, “damn, what actually happened here?”
not, “how can we protect you”
not, “maybe we should audit how much we let the boys’ club run wild.”
💀💀💀

nah.
just hostile.
so now
i’m left in ruins,
my whole fucking future
torched because i believed—
not just in the policies,
but in the people,
the whole institution. 💫

that’s the biggest bit of bullshit.
the only “wealth” i built
was in trauma
and betrayal during
an outright fucking emergency.
🙏

thanks for the memories.
congrats,
you played me.
now it’s just—
what?
💸 case law legacy shit?
💸 customer service holds?

i’ll let you know,
when i get a
single fucking second
to surface for air—
until then,
i’ll be over here
googling “what is
promissory estoppel?”
and doing math
on how to pay my electric bill.

💔

🤝🕊️

compliance horror stories, vol. 1: documented, dated, dumb as hell

(ok but like… was that your job? or were you just vibing?)

💡 disclaimer:
nothing here is intended as a statement of fact—
this is my interpretation of documents and circumstances.

✶

nah,
i’m not accusing anyone 🙃
just reviewing some events

let’s say—hypothetically—
if someone calling themselves
a financial professional
was allegedly sending cash
to your domestically violent co-parent
she’s your advisor—
but she’s
facetiming,
texting,
lol vibing 💀
✨ constantly ✨
with your shittier-legal-half
babe like—
during the onboarding process
for your newborn’s
life insurance policy—
while you were pregnant,
recently postpartum,
actively getting your ass beat,
and paying every fucking bill—
👏😐

she’s like
DING— 💸
ding. 💸
ding. 💸
babe,
i sent some cash!
not to you though
lol
to your man!
”professionally”
like a kick-back?
like a bestie energy.
🙃👍

you might be like:
“hey bestie, what the fuck is this?”

but like—
silly
i couldn’t ask
babe
never once
saw his phone.
girl—lol
he was kicking the
living shit out of me.
sweetie, i was
closer to slaughter—
every time i got closer to a secret.
🤫👀

must have been peaceful,
undisturbed.
bitch, tranquil?
right? like—
she’s never gunna know.
🤫🤭
ok. bet.

🏆

that’s why
💡
the closer y’all
alledegly got—
the fucking closer
i got to a fucking bodybag.

allegedly!!!!!! ✨
🤫🔪

now let’s say—again,
purely hypothetically—
that same rep
quietly removed herself
from your policy file
the moment you went
no-contact
with the man
she’d been allegedly ✨
ping
ping
PINGING.

heh.
hmmmmmmmmm.

but babe?
allegedly ✨
no formal transfer.
no internal disclosure.
no “hey girl, lol.
i’m recusing myself
from this
blatant conflict of interest”
🤷‍♀️💀

but yo—
they’re still
stalking your stories
from their main profile? 🔥
bold babe.

like even mid—
dv crisis??
when i locked that shit down,
whole ass account.
full ghost mode.
for safety?
but you 👀👀👀
+
awkward relationship
with my abuser?
lurking my private disclosures?
👀👀
without disclosing
the conflict of interest?
damn babe.
shit’s rough.

like—lawfully rough.

bro.
that’s not compliance.
that’s:
potentially…
💡
a fucking breach
meets
terrible life choices. 💳👻

🧾 the receipts (allegedly, according to what exists)

👏 i was told to fill out and fund everything
👏 postpartum, broke, then under a restraining order
👏 advisor was venmo’ing the boo off the books
👏 they called each other “sheriff” and “deputy” 🤠💌
👏 removed despite—surprise! i’m the custodial parent
👏 months later, i’m straight-up locked out
👏 when i finally got someone on zoom:
“oh, she recused herself. it got awkward.”
awkward like…
financially intertwined with
my ✨abusive spouse✨
while…potentially…
facilitating a policy
under false pretenses?

🌈🕊️👸💖✨
(shit—princess,
that seems like a
✨fucking disaster.✨)

– meanwhile, 💡
are you still up in my views?
without even outing yourself
as the financial fucking op?

BABE—
breach?
breach?
breach.
👏

(maybe)

🤔 what it “feels” like:

potentially…
✨ conflict of interest x100
✨ breach of duty plus nepotism vibes
✨ failure to act in client’s best interest
✨ retaliatory access removal
✨ possible coordinated fraud if we’re being spicy 🔥✨

allegedly. allegedly. allegedly.
right? 💀

yo—
you (potentially?)
knew what you were doing
you just chose vibes over ethics.
(you…probably…fucking deserve this.)
🫶📈✨

because babe?
it’s not for policy reasons.
but for personal proximity.
absolute trash-levels of disloyalty.
and maybe…a little crush.
who knows. 💀✨

lol.

congrats.
babe—you unlocked:
peak liability. 💳📉👻
(allegedly?)

🥀 what y’all forgot:

lol girl—
what i do know?
i’m organized af.
i have y’all’s supervisors cc’ed.
logged every fucking email.
kept monstrous-looking screenshots.
recorded whole-ass timelines.
saved those “breachy-af” venmos.
babe—like 50 pages.
(!!!)
shit.
and conceivably…
a fed. complaint #??
💀💀💀

fuck, right?
💀💀💀
💀💀💀
💀💀💀

yooooo—i know how it feels.

but hey,
honey—
you’re the star! ✨

sweetie—
you didn’t give a shit,
when i got fucked.
so when this dumpster fire
absolutely hits the fucking fan, ✨✨
and you thought,
no—she’ll never!
i want to be able to
point right here and say—
“lol. told you. babe. i really would.”

hey,
remember—
i tried to be cool.

you miscalculated my kindness
for weakness, girlie.
✨✨

bad move.
really bad move.

💬 legally unnecessary disclaimer:

if you feel personally attacked by this post,
i recommend three steps:

1. screenshot it for your legal team 🖨️

2. legal team reviews;
   visually giving “extremely distressed.” 💀

3. shit your pants hun, because—
   damn, y’all fucked up 🫠

✨✨ (allegedly)

✶

p.s.

btw;
what did those codes say…
🚨🚔🚨🚔🚨??

hmmmmm…
like
not tx…
not ga…
not co….
not. nj…

not fucking alabama..

??!

babe!
you see it?!

damn,.
(maybe?)
hope not,
i mean yikes dude—
terrible optics.

like—
🚨 aggravated strangulation of a pregnant woman—optics.

shit!
💀💀

good thing—
you would never, right?

but if you did—
did you disclose that?

🧚‍♀️ fairy tales for people who innately trust cops 🌈🕊️🫶

✶

i just genuinely
wanna know
what kind of
delusional fairytale bullshit 🧚‍♀️
y’all think
i’ve been living through.

like—
do i look like someone
who thinks the system works?
do i give “hopeful?”
do i radiate
“naïve survivor energy?”
🌈🕊️🫶💖
babe.
i’ve been knowing
the game was rigged
since before
i had fucking adult teeth.

i didn’t miss the memo.
i was proofed in it.
shit—
they handed it to me
in crayon. 🧃🧸

you think
i don’t get that
no one gives a fuck what i feel?
what i say?
lol girl—
i learned early.
✨ no one cares ✨
unless you can prove it.
and even then,
they’ll squint at the proof
and still tell you
“hmm. idk. sounds personal.”

bro.
it was one of my
earliest memories—
dialing 911 🚔
because someone had to.
📣🧍‍♀️📞📞📞📞
they came.
they left.
they came.
they left.
neighbors called.
bro,
friends’ parents literally
dialed 911
while i was on the phone.
and still—nothing.
📞🚨🚔💨
yo.
one time?
i told them
he said he’d kill me. 🔪✨
they told me to
“listen to my father.” 💀
i shit you not.
like that was the threat.
💀💀

the only time
they ultimately did anything
was when he
put his hands on a cop.
lol.
not the women and children.
nah.
us, they lol’ed.
him?
he bruised
a fucking badge. 💀🪦
then they suddenly
discovered arrest warrants.

🚔👏🙄

same shit,
different day.
i reported my rape.
they couldn’t
find his number,
LOL
so i had to fucking
phone-a-friend
like i was on some
fucked up episode of
who wants to be a millionaire:
sexual trauma edition.
called him.
put him on speaker.
made me read the script.
admitted he knew i was too drunk.
admitted it felt wrong.
admitted seemingly enough. ✨
but lol no.
they looked at me and went:
“damn. tragic. anyway—
can’t press charges.”
😐👮‍♂️👋
shit—
awkward, you just
called him up,
like—
after a decade.
can’t help though.
✨ lol sorry. ✨

and when i tried
to get someone
dangerous out of my life?
same thing.
walked into the pd like
a dumbass bitch 💫
with actual evidence in hand.
they were like
“sure sure, we’ll file this.”
jk: they didn’t.
called two days later—
no record.
legendary performance. ✨

👏 boys 👏 in 👏 blue 👏

bro—
i even tried
telling a court-appointed
💫 therapist
about the violence
when i was a literal fucking child.
he said i was lying. 🔥✨
to my face.
while my dad symbolically
stood behind him with a joint
and smug little predator smirk.
and that’s the part
that haunts me—
not the abuse.
the adults who knew,
and still looked at me
✨ like i was the problem. ✨

so no.
i’m not naïve.
i’m not a dumb bitch.
i’m just done pretending
shit didn’t happen,
because y’all don’t wanna hear it.
i’m done acting
like y’all are all shocked
when women bleed
and no one helps.
👏😐📉

and i’m especially done humoring people
who cringe when i talk about it
because they still think
“justice” is a real fucking word.

justice is a brand. ⚖️
accountability is a vibe.

🥺👉👈

yo—honestly,
i’ve just accepted
that truth doesn’t matter here.
not unless you’re white.
not unless you’re resourced.
not unless you’re male.
not unless you’re
the one doing the damage.

🚔👍🤷‍♀️🫶🌈

and it’s honestly funny
how uncomfortable people get
when i say this part out loud.
like they really thought
i was too delusional to notice
the way the system works.
💫

nah.
i noticed.

i just stopped pretending it would ever work for me.

but sure,
keep calling me crazy.
talking to me—
like i don’t know this shit.

babe,
i am this shit.

🏰🧚‍♀️👸✨

✶ burn book disclosure ✨✨

✶ clarification for the loudly critical and loudly confused.

hi,
welcome to my trauma archive.

yes, trauma archive—
it's not a subpoena,
deposition,
or defamation suit
waiting to happen.
it’s a narrative record,
heavy on vibes
and light on identifying details.
most of what you'll find here?
it's feelings.
emotions.
deeply coded reflections.

almost entirely:
NO real names,
NO dates,
NO identifying specifics.

but when you do find specifics?
trust this:
they've already been recorded in
courtrooms,
police reports,
hospital records,
witness statements,
submitted evidence,
restraining orders,
and public records.

sweetie—it's
✨ nothing new,
✨ nothing reckless,
and certainly
✨ nothing defamatory.

babe, i didn’t survive all this just to lose the legal plot now.

damn—
you could have just asked
to see my entire
”record of shit i’ve survived”
binder i built while taking blows—
if you needed the legal receipts.

✶ mental health & reality check ✶

let's set some facts straight:

• mental health: sound.
  like, only rational adult in the room, sound.

• kid: thriving, clean, happy, safe.
  thank you for fake-worrying.

• home: immaculate. kid-proofed.
  again safe. zero dangerous men.

• law school attendance: never missed a single class.
  grades stable. using available resources.
  on track for that degree. ✨

if reading about the wreckage left
by abuse makes you think,
"hmm, she sounds unstable."
congratulations, 🧠🥇
you've discovered the entire point:

✨ abuse is inherently destabilizing. ✨

physical abuse,
financial devastation,
and temporary homelessness
created by being abandoned
✨ by your own family—
it's literally designed
to break people down.
if that doesn’t make
immediate sense to you,
kindly see the
"cycle of abuse" section
thoughtfully included and tabbed
elsewhere on this site.
it's like a cheat sheet, ✍️
for those of you still
missing the entire fucking plot.

✶ legal clarity ✶

(quick refresher for the fake-concerned)

• every fact explicitly stated
  is documented
  in sworn testimony,
  court filings,
  decades of reported abuse,
  videos & photos,
  **aka literally judge-confirmed-submitted-evidence.
  unpaid court-ordered child support,
  my own dated and credible records,
  multiple reliable witnesses,
  or police reports.

  
  **so again,
  why are you panicked, babe?
  because it’s definitely not about “my kid”

• all other content: protected by the first amendment.
  yes, even the emotionally charged bits.

• anti-SLAPP laws are ✨real and relevant✨
  i encourage you to google them
  before wasting your energy or mine.

💀💀💀

babe?
“think like a lawyer!”

girlie—
this entire website has been
forwarded to the establishment
✨BY ME ✨
review = verified (✓)

this is my record in a
desperate attempt to evade
being completely erased.
maybe ask a question.
maybe use context clues.

y’all—

this isn’t reckless oversharing.
it’s strategic transparency—
something survivors rely on
when society,
families,
and institutions
inevitably fail us.

✶ a gentle note for misguided critics ✶

before you approach
with “please shut up” vibes
and hypothetical courtroom scenarios,
maybe first:

• read the disclaimers (seriously).

• check the legal references provided.

• ask questions (like, a single one?).
  like damn dude. 🤯

because the uncomfortable truth is this:

the only thing destabilizing survivors
more than the abuse itself
is the silence that everyone demands afterward.

speaking openly (!!!!!)
is what saved me and my child—
not your secondhand embarrassment,
hypothetical scenarios,
or bullshit warnings.

if you still think documenting my truth
makes me unstable,
perhaps you’ve
missed the actual story being told here.

so kindly relax,
read again,
and connect the dots
before offering unsolicited fear tactics.

and if the diary hurts your feelings?
made you need to say shit
like—
“maybe disappear…silently?”
yo—but imagine living the source material.

you don’t get to mistake
a woman narrating her own survival
as unstable just because
she isn’t saying it in a tone you like.
because guess what?
if you’d ever been through it,
you’d know:
strategic rage is the cleanest version
of sanity left when you're
the last adult standing.

no one here is spiraling. 💡
this is clarity.
this is the ugly, violent, abusive truth.
this is what stability actually
looks like when you walk through
a deviously designed disaster.

and i still would never choose—
violence.
hate.
lies.
or manipulation.

i just choose truth.

🖤

with stable clarity,

— sam lowe ✶

🚩 🚩 🚩

and for real:
if the entire system
directly designed
to call me a liar
believed me 🤯—
regarded me as a:
credible,
stable,
truthful,
verifiable
witness—
to my own abuse…
what does that
say about you?
💡

just admit:
when you look—
you see ”perpetual victim”

and that’s a
deeply personal
brutal empathy deficiency,
lazy, surface-level analysis,
context-free thinking,
statistical illiteracy,
and class-blind arrogance
problem.
💡