encore: truly; thank you…i unburdened <3

yo.

for real:
thank you for giving me the mic.
i didn’t think i’d get this moment.
but now that i’m here?
damn.
felt good to get that off my chest.

thank you for showing up.
you really could’ve kept scrolling.
you could’ve stayed unbothered.
you could have easily continued
to pretend i was just invisible.

but nah—
you didn’t
you commited to hearing me out.
<3

so thank you for clicking.
thank you for showing up with
visible ip’s and equally visible anger.

ping ping ping
babe, i’m just auto replying
to you screaming from behind glass.
(it just looks like silent screaming tho?)
and hey—
that was the point.
thank you.
i have unburdened.

(but seriously,
girl,
if it helps—
keep talking to yourself in the comment thread.
it’s almost like,
therapy right?)

you really came—
you watched.
you spiraled.
defended yourself to a creative essay—
poem at best.
you probably screenshotted it for your family group chat.
discussed. strategized.
maybe even tried to write a think piece.

i didn’t read it.
but i felt the traffic spike.
and honestly?
respect.

also—
quick question.
when you showed your partner,
your husband,
your man or whoever’s laying next to you trying to ignore the tension in your forehead—
what’d he say?

did he smirk?
did he pretend to be outraged?
like, “wow babe, how could she say that?”
(☠️☠️☠️)
was he offended for you?

or did his face twitch—just a little—
like he recognized himself?
because hey—
here’s a secret:
he knows.

he’s seen it.
he ran through the links.
he felt the read.
and deep down,
you both know I’m not lying.

(although he might
still show up in the comments
for optics…
for the love of god please do.
☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️)

this whole thing?
probably gonna come up in your next argument.
he’ll deflect.
you’ll doubt.
but that seed’s planted now,
isn’t it?

hey—
you think he’ll show his friends?
private clown-town session?
(he would fucking never!)
lol. cool. no totally.
he would never.

so again—
thank you.
for the clicks.
for the projections.
for the engagement.
for the accidental press tour.

thank you for reading my essays.
my poems.
my art.
my personal expression of hell.
it means a lot.

and still—
i should note:
this is actually a very inclusive burn book.
equal opportunity.
there are love poems.
there’s true gratitude.
there’s angelic-like behaviors,
and then—
there’s you.

the treacherous gremlins.

you deserve your little fucking corner in hell
on the sub-fucking-plot
of my link-on-link-on-link-on-link-on-link
in a dark corner of my personal website.

coded. embarrassing. unclaimed.

(why am i lol’ing? like internal monologue is giving evil villain…
damn. i’ve been studying too long…)

but still—
your attendance is noted.
your energy was clocked.
and the silence?
archived.

this has been great.
i’m healed-ish.
you’re…still you.
and the mic?
yeah, i’m keeping it.

goodnight.