(but you’re the reason women die)
not because i didn’t have the words.
but because your archetype is exhausting—
and fatal.
you play the victim so well,
you’ve started to believe yourself.
you cry about chaos while quietly setting every fire.
there is a rare and insidious type of woman who
uses the language of abuse not to escape danger, but to create it.
it’s not a cry for help—it’s a tactic.
not to be saved, but to stay centered.
not to escape, but to control.
but baby girl, i clocked you the moment i heard the narrative.
i know the high you get from weaponizing what should be sacrosanct.
it’s your favorite modus operandi— (google it girlie)
because as long as you’re the perpetual victim,
no one will get an accurate read on the manipulative, abusive villain you really are.
but i do.
i see you.
because women who are truly afraid?
they don’t move like that. (i know you don’t know.)
they don't play chess with the men they say they're afraid of.
they don’t risk late-night texts—
because that kind of shit can get you fucking killed.
you are not afraid.
you are the chaos.
and maybe there is a cycle of abuse—
but you’re the one pulling strings from the epicenter.
this isn’t survival.
this is theater.
it’s covert optics.
behind his back.
while he pays your rent.
feeds your babies.
and you cry to another man to come save you.
but baby, i see you.
you don’t want to leave.
you want a better option.
i know this because:
you don’t run when the door isn’t even locked—
and you have multiple exit plans.
not when being trapped earns you pity and attention.
not when chaos keeps you in control of the storyline.
but i fucking see you.
because some of us actually ran for our fucking lives.
we know that you will leave everything,
in the middle of the night.
you grab the babies.
and you run.
no fucking shoes if you have to.
you just run.
because sweetie,
i’ve almost died at the hands of men that love me.
and let me explain, we’re not the ones smiling biggest in the family photo ops.
because it’s blessed, right?
(or am i in the wrong script now?)
and I know the difference
between a woman in danger
and a woman who uses the language of danger
to avoid being seen for what she really is.
you aren’t scared.
you’re calculated.
you don’t want peace.
you want power.
you’re the type of woman who needs men to orbit you.
as you play them against each other,
just to feel the power that you can’t get without manipulation.
but always remember this:
you hold babies as hostages,
and while you play games,
they will be imprinted with the chaos you created.
because you’re not trapped.
you are the architect of self-created tragedy.
but i hope you understand the gravity of what you’re doing.
because it is lethal.
and they will call us liars as penance for you.
because you sucked the empathy out of people
who were too exhausted to listen
when we are actually fleeing for our fucking lives.
and focus for a second:
they will die because of you.
and honestly, the worst part is:
your children will still suffer.
because abuse does live in this home.
you’re just not the victim.
***For survivors who’ve had their truth disbelieved because of someone else’s bullshit.