forgiveness was one honest text away. but y’all love jail. 🖤

yo,
real talk,
for the homies out there
like: 👤👤👤
sometimes i just space out
and think,
damn,
i really could have saved
you so much time,
so much shame-spiraling,
so many embarrassing lies
you can’t keep straight—
if you’d just
opened your mouth and said
one
real
thing.

literally, just one.
one actual adult sentence.
groundbreaking shit.
like for real;
y’all actually could have just.
told.
the.
truth.
like—
imagine!

like,
you could have pulled up and said:

🗣️ “hey, i’m still psycho-texting my ex at 2am”
🗣️ “i’m fucking scared”
🗣️ “i think i wanna be a dad but i also have fear of abandonment”
🗣️ “i’m broke as hell”
🗣️ “i made out with my co-worker”
🗣️ “i’m depressed as fuck”
🗣️ “i started talking to her before you came back around”
or shit,
🗣️ “i have a pharmacy in my sock drawer and i’ve been selling your pills.”
stunning.
i’d have said,
“bet. thanks for being real.”

and either i would’ve:
1. handed you a solution,
or
2. walked away in peace

instead of adding you
to my mental shit list
forever.


you really could have said:
“yo i’m not ready for this,”

🖤

but nah.
y’all picked the hard mode.
like this was a
fucking escape room.
except the only unknown was
“how many times can
i gaslight this bitch
into thinking
it’s her that’s crazy?”
🦹‍♀️
answer?
infinite.
until now.

but for real.
this is the part that kills me
i didn’t even need
y’all to do shit perfectly,
just do anything
honestly—babe.
one time.
one honest
“yo, i fucked up.”

…do you realize
(this is genuine)
i would’ve helped you?
like actually helped you?
or at the very least,
i would’ve had fucking context,
and i would’ve
moved different,
with a tiny,
adorable thing called
“clarity”
instead of full-throttle,
about to fuck shit up,
resentment olympics.

like why?
i probably would’ve
made you a sandwich.
maybe even let you sleep
in my bed instead of in your own
self-created purgatory.
💀

but nah.
y’all went with:
“what if i lied so badly that i create
a whole side quest for myself
and then resent you for noticing?”
💀
like ok bro,
speedrun your own downfall i guess.

but nah.
nahhhhhhhhh.
instead,
y’all turned
“i need to own my shit”
into a multi-season
ego drama
with 200 plot twists,
except the only twist
is you’re all just
cowards with wifi.
💀

and now—
instead of like,
literally sending a
three-word apology,
or just saying “damn i really fumbled that,”
instead of sending a half-assed “my bad,”
or venmoing the child support you owe me,
instead of being an actual grown up,
you just sit there,
binge-reading my life
like a hulu series,
bro—
y’all are really acting like
you’re watching me through glass,
as if your silence = innocence.

the way you all act like not talking
means no accountability.
like you’re a ghost.
like you don’t exist
unless i say your name.
newsflash:
you’re not invisible.
👻

and truthfully
the words you’re looking for
as you scroll every post are:
✍️✍️✍️
damn, i am sorry girl.”

yooooo.
y’all are really so dramatic.
i’m an understanding bitch.
i just didn’t want to be
lied to and manipulated,
and then have y’all act
like i’m the problem
because i fucking said it out loud.

like damn,
that’s not even baddie energy.
that’s just basic adulthood,
and y’all keep opting for,
nope.”
we’d rather go with:
lurking
and
avoidance
and
lifelong regret.

like honestly—
the bar was:
just tell the truth

but instead you chose:
🧢🧢🧢 (cap, cap, cap)

premium gaslight bundle 🔥🔦
and honestly?
that’s outlandish.

but lol.
ok.
good luck out there, kings.
i hope silence keeps you warm at night.

🏆🏆🏆


xoxo

🥀

forever your biggest regret.

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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when you get hit with a “nah” mid emergency.