bitch. what the actual fucking fuck.

no like—what the actual fucking fuck.

how do people live like this?
how do they say words
they never intended to follow through on
with a straight face,
while looking you dead in the eye—
like they’re doing you a favor
by lying eloquently.

i’ve heard it all.
“i’ll help with law school.”
“i’m gonna help you and your daughter”
“you can count on me.”
“i’m not going anywhere.”
“i’m different.”
“i won’t let you down.”

oh, okay.
monologue-worthy.
award-winning.
and not a single ounce of shame,
just vibes and a fantasy—
they never intended to subsidize.

like… did y’all black out when you said that?
or was it just fun for you to pretend
you were a good person for five seconds?

because if you’re gonna lie,
at least
sweat a little.
at least look
slightly uncomfortable.
at least try to act like
you understood the fucking weight of the words coming out of your mouth.

but nah.
they said it all
with soft eyes and steady tone—
and left the wreckage for you to clean up.

and you—
you sweet,
delulu,
soft-hearted baddie—
you want to believe them.
you still do.

you want to believe people are good.
that they’re just confused.
that maybe,
if you’re patient enough,
kind enough,
clear enough,
they’ll rise to meet you.

you still think
love is contagious.
you still think
maybe if you love someone well enough,
they’ll start acting right.
start showing up.
start softening.

and sometimes?
they do.
sometimes
they surprise you.
sometimes
they show up with real energy,
real care,
real follow-through.

but let’s not pretend you don’t know the other kind.
the ones who say the right things
with no intention of doing any of them.
the ones who
say the line,
hold your gaze,
and walk away without looking back—
without hesitating.

you’ve seen it.
you’ve felt it.
you’ve clocked it in real time.
but instead of cutting it off,
you wrote it a redemption arc
it never fucking earned.

baby—
hear me,
i know you don’t want to…
but you’ve got to let them all go.

you saw the pattern.
you notice everything.
you just hoped,
this time,
you were misreading it.
because the alternative?
is admitting
they were all
intentionally—
fucking with you.

and that—
that’s what makes this kind of manipulation
so cruel.

because baby,
you know:

they don’t forget.
they don’t get overwhelmed.
they’re not confused.

they just don’t give a fuck about you.

and that’s not your fault.
but it is your responsibility
to stop letting people
hurt you twice.

once was their choice.
twice is yours.

so yeah.
babe—
you can still be soft.
you can still hope.
but let’s not do the whole
“maybe they meant well” thing again.

they didn’t.

you know what it is.
please act like it.