🗣 fuck all y’all

this isn’t a post.
this is a controlled demolition,
minus the fucking control.

⚠️❤️‍🔥🦅

i was born into
a rigged fucking experiment.
raised on gaslighting
and “don’t say that” bullshit.

but i have been hurting
for a very,
very long fucking time.
and all of you watched.

🫣🧍👀✋

from the moment
i was a little girl,
crying in fucking rooms
nobody came into.
from the nights
i was told
i was fucking dramatic
instead of
in goddamn danger.
from the way
grown men stared
and nobody said
a fucking word.
from the bruises,
the screaming,
the manipulation,
the gaslighting
so good
it should’ve won
fucking awards.

i have been hurting.
and not one of you stopped it.
not one of you
fucking waited—
looked back
made sure
we fucking made it.

🚶🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♀️💨...🚶‍♀️💔

so hey.
fuck you, right back.

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

fuck you,
for designing a whole
goddamn culture
that swallows women
in fucking silence
and protects men—
loud as fuck
and sheilds
fucking power
instead of fucking people.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck you, family.
for building a
narrative where
i’m “difficult”
instead of harmed.
instead of, in actual
fucking danger.
for blaming me
for the chaos
they raised me in.
for letting me scream
and cry
and beg
for someone—
fucking anyone—
to come help me.
and then punishing me
when i finally
helped my goddamn self.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck you, coworkers.
you clearly clocked
the watercooler bullshit,
the phone set to
fucking FaceTime,
the zero need
to be actually
in-fucking-office—
the sad little
“sheriff & deputy”
fucking inside joke,
and you did
the goddamn olympics
in moral gymnastics
to call it fucking
“professional.”
so you watched a
pregnant woman
unravel and thought
it was fucking
office tea.
you saw a walking
red flag fucking parade
and sold policies
to the main
fucking killing suspect.
congrats on the
bystander gold fucking medal,
co-conspirers of dv
in fucking goddamn polos.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck you, whole ass financial frat
for enabling a fucking monster
for your fucking
compliance failures.
policy frauds.
while you routed shit
in the fucking dark
while i was
in a goddamn
hospital gown,
then called it
fucking “standard.”
y’all said “awkward”
like it was a fucking joke—
and not my own
personal goddamn
fucking dateline episode.
and then you fucked
a baby’s life policy—
mid-fucking-crisis
like “lol—nah,
we really that diabolical.”
holy fucking shit.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck every man who loved how broken i was,
until i asked them to be there.
until i needed something real.
until i got inconvenient.
until i had a baby.
until i saw the truth.
and still,
i stayed fucking soft.
i still goddamn believed.
i still thought
maybe this time,
this one would
fucking protect me.
maybe this time
someone would
stand up and say
“don’t fucking touch her.”

no one fucking did.

😭😭😭

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck the women who watched.
who called me
a fucking sister,
a soul mate,
a fucking ride-or-die,
but couldn’t spare
a fucking weekend,
a babysitting shift,
a goddamn grocery run.
fuck the fake empathy.
fuck the vague texts.
fuck the embarrassment.
fuck the “sending love”
with no real
fucking love sent.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck you, my shitty-ass husband.
for pretending
to be my safe place
just long enough
to fucking isolate me.
for stealing
everything good
from me
while i was
too fucking pregnant,
too loyal,
too sick to stop it.
for running up my bills,
draining my accounts,
calling me dumb,
and then weaponizing
my fucking survival
against me.
for watching me bleed,
and walking out
the fucking door anyway.
for dodging accountability
like it’s a fucking hobby.
for letting me
carry this whole
goddamn war
on my back
while he plays victim
to people too
fucking stupid
to ask questions.
you ivy-league asshole.
you special-ops wife beater
with fucking mommy issues.
you turned love
into a fucking revenue stream
and my body
into fucking target practice.
you paid zero
to the child you
fucking auditioned to father,
while i counted quarters
for fucking formula
like it was a sacrament.
you don’t make calls—
you haunt.
you stalk.
you tried to kill
what you
refused to protect.
choke on that sentence.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck you, whole shitty goddamn culture.
for calling it “drama”
when it’s documented violence.
for rewarding quiet women
with fucking funerals
and loud men
with fucking promotions.
for teaching girls
“self-respect”
and boys some
shit fucking “alibis.”
for telling me
to heal
fucking privately
while the damage
was goddamn public.

✨🖕🏻✨
fuck every single bystander.
in the office.
in the family.
in the friend group.
in the system.
who saw enough to know
something was fucking wrong,
but not enough to care.
fuck every institution
that didn’t protect us.
every lawyer who defends
fucking abusers.
every employer
who said
“we support survivors”
and then looked
the other fucking way.
every coworker who knew
he was fucking dangerous
and still called
it business as fucking usual.
every person
who saw him abusing me
in plain goddamn sight
and said fucking nothing.

|
⚠️☠️🚨

fuck all y’all.

✨🖕🏻✨
✨🖕🏻✨
✨🖕🏻✨

i don’t care if you’re confused.
i don’t care if this feels too harsh.
i don’t care if you thought you were helping.
if you didn’t show up, you didn’t show up.
if you watched, you were part of it.
if you knew, and you let it happen,
you made yourself complicit.

there is no excuse.
no location.
no timeline.
no memory you get to rewrite.

i remember everything.
and i’m not scared of saying it anymore.

you left me to die.
and now i’m dangerous.

no address.
no warning.

just bars on the windows
and a memory sharp enough
to fucking gut you.

so fuck all y’all.

and now that we’re all properly introduced,
hear me fucking clearly:

i was a perfect target
because there was no perimeter.
that era is fucking dead.

i don’t need closure.
i need fucking consequences.
i don’t need forgiveness.
i need fucking forensics.
i don’t need advice.
i need you to get the fuck
out of my fucking way.

this is the part where
you expect me
to soften it
with hope, yeah?
no bitch.
hope can meet me
at the fucking courthouse
with a black coffee
and a fucking binder.