baby—fuck your way to the top.

okay. deep breath.
this is gonna sting.

but babe... come closer.
no, closer.
sit down. you’re gonna wanna hydrate.

🥂

hey, i know you know me.
want to be me.
or at least feel superior to me. (🤡)
but let’s talk woman to gremlin.

💀 he will never be seen in public with you. 💀

and yeah, i know—mean.
but babe, you earned that.

because the fact is:
he’s shallow.
like kiddie pool shallow.
like “my dream girl is a bottle service brunette who won’t google me” shallow.

and you?
you’re a four.
masking as an eight
in bad…lighting…
and your dad’s credit limit running interference.

and to him?
that’s hot—for about five minutes.
because he doesn’t want love.
he wants envy.

he wants to walk into the room
with someone every man stares at.
baby—
not someone who
got him the invite.

you?
honey.
you gave him the key.
but you were never the flex.
you were the function.

hun.
the room you unlocked?
he’ll be looking around.
babe—he’s fucking the blonde waitress.
because she’s younger.
hotter.
dumber.
and she makes him feel powerful.
and because
deep down?
he’s embarrassed by you.

(and babe… i think you know that.)

and the part that really hurts?
he knows men in your world don’t want you.
that’s why you cling
desperately—
to the nonfunctional ones.

but in that room?
with those people?
he’ll feel exposed.
embarrassed.

📉

some girls double text.
you?
you detonate your entire career. 🤯

iconic.
slay queen.
🫡💅🏼📉

let me 👏🏼 risk 👏🏼 it 👏🏼 all 👏🏼
risk my creds
risk my proxy—
for this emotionally bankrupt broke boy.

girllllllllll.
my dude does not even have abs.
like—really.
he spends three hours on the toilet
texting the next girl who gives him a hot meal.

baby—
he doesn’t even know what day it is half the time.

and you?
you gave up your entire rep to feel 🏆 picked 🏆
by someone who couldn't even commit to his own last name?

couldn’t commit to staying in the state?

babe.

baaaabe.

you will not get a loyalty award.
you will get a summons.

because once this shit implodes?
he’s flipping it on you.

guess who’s on file?
guess who has creds?
guess who’s supposed to know better?

baby.
he’s already teeing up your villain arc.
already rehearsing that
“she offered.”
“she sent the coin.”
“she came onto me”
”i’ve been to war—”
whole ass monologue in the mirror.
trust me.
i witnessed the rewrite.

and sweetie?
then he’ll call you stupid for having been so careless.

he’s not your man.
he’s a liability.
you don’t need closure.
you need legal counsel.

so when it all falls apart—
and it always does—
he’ll save himself.

and he’ll let you drown
in paperwork
and whispers
and your own bar tabs.

not because he’s disorganized.
but because he’s calculated.
and you?
were available. 🎖
with benefits.

there’s no redemption arc coming.
no plot twist.
no “damn, that was so worth it”

just this:

he used you.
it was never personal.
and now you have to live with the fact:
you wanted to be special.
✨ the exception.
✨ the girl he’d change for.
✨ the main character.

but baby,
you really didn’t need to—

set yourself on fire

to impress a married dude—
who literally described you as
a career plug.

ouch.

you didn’t get chosen.
you got utilized.
like an extension cord, babe.

🔌