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.