“yo, just stfu”

i know i know,
you’re like:
girl—
just
shut the fuck up.

listen—

y’all really think i’m out here
for the optics?
on some survivor girl,
victim bullshit?

like this is some petty drama?

yo—
on my daughter, my dog, my life:
i’d rather do anything fucking else.

bro, hear me out:
i’d rather literally have any other scenario.
you think this shit is amusing?
like cool character development arc?
some random theatrics
i do because daddy didn’t love me enough?

lol.

nah.
please be serious.

this shit ripped my heart out.
i’m writing about pain when
i was already fucking drowning.
when life was already so fucking heavy.
and all i wanted was someone to be
fucking nice to me.

but some of y’all just see drama.
attention seeking.
whatever.
i don’t give a fuck anymore.

here’s the truth:
my whole life?
lived in silence.
in the fucking shadows.
right where everyone could fucking see.
i promise you—
millions out here,
trapped in the same brutal bullshit,
all because they convinced us to
shut the fuck up.

that’s the whole fucking plot, my dude.
pretend that shit didn’t happen—
or wait,
it just wasn’t that bad—
or like,
not like that.

but nah bitch—
it was
exactly like that.

brutality.
violence.
manipulation.
sexual abuse.
real nasty shit.

and no,
i’m not talking about some ex
or some bitch who smoked my weed.
that’s just shit that hurt my feelings.
i’m talking the real—insidious level shit.
the soul-killing,
skull-crushing,
generations-long,
financially and emotionally obliterating shit.

and all they want—
is for us
to
shut the fuck up.

that’s the only way
this shit
survives.

if we are:
so scared.
so depleted.
so overwhelmed.
so ashamed.
so isolated.
so broke.

that we:

shut the fuck up.

bro—yeah,
i gotta say it out loud,
even if it sounds ugly.
betrayal,
abuse,
all the fucked shit
they told me
to keep my
fucking
mouth
shut
about;

but yo—
from my deepest parts of my whole heart:

i just wanted one of you to love me.
i know dude—
sad violin.
i know you’re skimming this part.
don’t wanna hear it.
i know y’all don’t give a shit.
shit makes me wanna cry.
because—
i know:
i’m not perfect.
i know i fucked up.
and honestly?
i would’ve told you that.
i tried to tell you.
i tell y’all when i fuck up.
i tell you i’ve seen shit no one should see.
and i’m still trying.

i still gave you my whole fucking heart—
even the ones i wasn’t
like—all in love with and shit.
just riding that homie wave,
ride or die—
forever.
or whatever.
some real shit.
i still loved y’all.
really.
fully.
my whole chest.

so why the fuck
couldn’t you just not stab me in the back?
not leave me fucking alone—

why couldn’t you at least try?
because it’s so pathetic,
honestly makes me so fucking sad—
because,
truly:
till the end,
i’m always still holding out hope
that someone’s gonna turn around and be like,
“nah, just kidding.
i’m not this shitty.
that was a mistake.
i’m sorry.”

bro.
(fuck—i might cry)

they don’t.
because they fucking suck.
or what-the-fuck-ever.
and it hurts
so.
fucking.
bad.

to be alone.
and told it’s your fault.

y’all think i’m trying to play the victim?
please.
i’d rather be
fucking chill,
normal
.
not fucking
short fucking circuiting—
for no fucking reason.

and i healed so much—
i don’t shake.
i don’t coldsweat.
i don’t lash out.
i always see the good.
i don’t feel like—
the world is fucking caving in.
i’m finally ok.

and everyone’s gone.
or shit.
or just really far.

seriously—
please hear me:
this is the hand i was dealt.
so don’t tell me to shut the fuck up
all i’m trying to do is survive
without turning
in-to-a
piece
of
shit.

i fight that ghost—
every
fucking
day.

if i don’t say it,
if i shut the fuck up?
babe—
they win.
all that darkness stays
hidden,
unpunished,
reaffirmed.

disappearing?
that ain’t the move.
that’s how
generations
of women
evaporated.
vanished.
went fucking insane.

speaking out?
brave as shit?
scary a shit?
worth it as shit.

believe me baby—
i fucking swear:
that’s
the only
way

this shit stops hiding in the dark.
my guy.

this is how i save the girls
not even born yet.

i have to.

so couldn’t you
just not be
so fucking mean?

i’m already scared as fuck.

Samantha Lee Lowe

sammie lowe is a single mom, law student, and founder of bodhi cleaning co.—an ethical, femme-forward cleaning collective rooted in fairness, ritual, and rage. born from survival and built with purpose, her work redefines what it means to clean house—physically, emotionally, and systemically. she blends practicality with a little bit of magic, runs on justice and white vinegar, and believes that women shouldn’t have to choose between making money and making meaning. this isn’t a side hustle. it’s a standard.

http://sammielowe.com/
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