“why did you pick him?” ✨🥊✨

the highly disrespectful inquiry.

yo.
shut up.

🤞

i didn’t pick
the punches.
i picked a fucking person.
he picked violence.

for the love of god—
stop
asking
women
to reverse-fucking-engineer
a goddamn crystal ball. 🔮
i was 33.
then 34.
i wanted a baby,
i had just lost one—
i wanted a family,
a fucking teammate.

babe.
he emailed me
through the blocks.
he called.
he begged.
he showed up.
he sold me dreams
in the only fucking currency
i wanted: a family. ✨👍

for real,
i thought it might work.
we had parallel brains,
the same degree,
similar goals,
good days
that looked like hope.
but yeah.
addiction flashed,
sure—
so did effort.
so did his fucking trauma,
and i had fucking empathy.

homie,
that’s how
grooming works:
one hand comforts,
one hand punches,
and you spend months
trying to remember
which is fucking real.

🦋 girlie:

“why did you pick him?”
is lazy fucking math.
it pretends
selection error
voids human fucking rights.
honey, it fucking doesn’t.

why did i pick him?

i picked him
because
get this—
i’m a fucking human. 💞✨

and did he have flaws?
of course he did.
so do you.
so does your
motherfucking dude.
🪞🕊️
you want me
to pick him apart?
because i could.
but i don’t—
because that’s not
what love
is supposed to be about.
and when
you’re in it,
babe,
you see the best.
you look past
the bullshit
because you’re trying
to fucking build something.
not burn it down
the second it smells
like fucking smoke.

💎 but let’s be very fucking clear:
i didn’t pick
“getting punched
in the head
while fucking pregnant.”
✌🏻🥰💖✨
i didn’t pick fraud.
i didn’t pick watching my savings disappear.
i didn’t pick manual strangulation.
you think
any version of me
said, “yes please, wanna fuck my life up”?
lol, shut up.

fuck no.
abuse is covert,
you twat.
nah.
it creeps in.
slow.
deliberate.
and by the time
the mask slips,
you’ve got a kid,
fucking debt,
a law degree midair,
and no goddamn backup.
so
what the fuck
were my options?
you want to tell me
where i was
supposed to fucking run,
since you seem
to have all
the goddamn answers?

baby,
that is some
dumb-bitch shit.

✨💖✨

ok—
my mom knew.
my friends watched.
and you still
have the fucking audacity
to ask why i stayed?

here’s what
i wish people understood:
abuse isn’t
about picking
“the wrong person.”
it’s about
trusting
the right person
to be who they said they were—
and then
watching them
transform into
your worst fucking nightmare
while the world shrugs
and goes:
“well… maybe you should’ve known.”

hey,
fuck y’all.

👋😊🖕🏻✨

you don’t get
to say that to me.
you don’t get
to rewrite
my fucking survival
as a goddamn warning story.
you don’t get
to shame
the part of me
that tried to love a man
who fucking lied.
baby.
that’s not weakness.
that’s fucking humanity.

so no.
i didn’t “pick wrong.”
i picked love.
i picked family.
i picked future.
he picked violence.
he picked betrayal.
he picked me as a target.

and now i pick truth. 💫
i pick rage.
i pick me
and my fucking baby,
alive and free
and burning every
fucking bridge
he tried to trap us on—
while it was in goddamn flames.

so next time
someone asks me
that fucking question,
i’ll ask them this:
“what would you have done,
with no money,
no backup,
and a baby on the way?”

and if the answer’s
silence,
then maybe
keep your judgment
to your fucking self.

🤞🪐🦋✨

if you want me
to audit my choice,
hand me your partner first.
i’ll put on the same smile
i wore while you ignored
your own red fucking flags,
then i’ll read
your life
for filth
with fucking footnotes.

the truth: 👏
i saw a full human—
flaws, yes;
also the boy
who could’ve been
my best friend.
i bet on
his better self.
he bet on
my survival
and tried to
fucking bankrupt it.
that’s not romance;
that’s fraud with fucking flowers.

so here’s the life lesson: 🤌

i picked vows.
he picked treachery.
i picked a home.
he picked havoc.
i picked us.
he picked me apart.

and still,
the question lands
like a charge sheet
on my fucking lap.
no, bitch.
the indictment belongs
to the person who harmed,
not the person who fucking hoped.

if you need
a wake-up call,
set your alarm to this:
there is no universe
where “you chose wrong”
equals
“you deserved harm.”
not when
you’re vulnerable.
not ever.

🙏🏻✨💖

hold abusers accountable. 🔥
hold systems accountable. 🔥
leave the victim-blaming
at the fucking door—
my daughter
is sleeping behind it.

🪬🧿✨️ (protection from your bullshit)