the reckoning.

preamble.
i wasn’t born with rage.
you manufactured it.
with your betrayals, your lies, your casual violences dressed up as "normal."
this isn’t revenge.
this isn’t bitterness.
this is what happens when survival stops apologizing for being louder than betrayal.

this is not my villain origin story.
this is your legacy disintegrating in real time.

article i: existence.
i was never built for your comfort.
i will never dilute myself down into something small enough to make you feel heroic.
you built cages.
i built matches.
that’s the whole story.

article ii: truth.
they trained us to bleed quietly.
they trained us to protect the reputations of the people who harmed us.
they trained us to apologize for how ugly survival looks.

but you don’t get to call it ugly when you’re the reason it’s necessary.

we name it now.
out loud.
all of it.
without asking for permission, without asking for grace.

article iii: evolution.
we tell the truth even when it burns them alive.
we collect receipts like artifacts.
we document what you thought would stay buried.

we name things exactly as they are:
violence. cowardice. manipulation. abandonment.
not "mistakes."
not "misunderstandings."
not "rough patches."

we do not minimize.
we do not edit ourselves for the comfort of cowards.
we let the record stand exactly where you left it.

article iv: loyalty.
loyalty is not owed to dysfunction.
not to a last name.
not to a shared bed.
not to any bloodline, contract, or bullsh*t apology.

loyalty is owed to the self.
to the ones still dragging themselves across the wreckage and calling it hope.
to the ones who never stayed dead when the world asked them to lie down and quit.

article v: the reckoning.

this is not about hate.
this is not about men.
this is not about family or marriage or blood.

this is about the slow, blistering refusal to disappear.

this is about waking up one day and realizing survival isn’t a shameful secret —
it’s the most lethal weapon you’ve ever held.

this is about outliving every story they tried to force you into.
this is about becoming so untouchable that even memory can’t degrade you.

conclusion.

we are not the sad, soft girls you whisper about.
we are not the tragedies you recycle into cautionary tales.
we are not the ones who bled out quietly for your convenience.

we are the proof you didn’t bury your sins deep enough.

we are stronger than you’ll ever be.
we are documentarians.
we are villains only because we stopped bleeding for your comfort.

we are not begging for understanding.
we are not waiting for closure.
we are not available for editing.

we didn’t ask to be immortal.
but you built the altar when you built the lie.

**this isn’t vengeance. this is documentation.