a deep house love story & other public stupidity 🎛️🎧

wait.

…(the 🫖)…

so.
my guy
took one look at that
facebook profile pic and said,

…

“wait, is that your husband?”

👯‍♀️

and baby,
i had to say yes 🤡
because shit—it is
and he is
and the banner is literally them 👭🏼
as fucking cartoon characters in love
like this man
went from 🔥🔥 felony assaults
and a newborn
to bitmoji boyfriend
like it was fucking nothing.

✨🗼㊙㊗🥋👊🤕❤️‍🔥

…

and the best part?
i didn’t go looking for this.
i didn’t stalk. i didn’t dig.
i got handed this by
other
fucking
people
who are also like

✨💡✨

“what in the sex-offender registry is going on here???”

noooooooo.

lmfao.

🎶🕺

—

this is fucking full con energy.

because it:

✦ confirms cohabitation or at least
a sustained,
documented relationship
during a time he was claiming
what exactly?
to the bench?
ecstasy & osteoporosis 🪩 motherfuckers.

✦ discredits any denial of contact, intent, or fucking proximity

✦ gives clear visuals of mutuality—
she’s not just “watching” me,
she’s weirdly claiming him??

ew.

✦ and the fucking banner?
holy shit,
the ✨banner✨ is
proof of fucking narrative.
she’s not just dating him,
she’s fucking fantasizing publicly
about being bonded to him.

word.

(⋆ 🌊🦈. * ⋆.)

okie doke.

it’s giving
middle-aged, molly’d,
and fucking legally monitored.

lol shit.
cool babe.
i’ll just be out here—
chill. accurate. fucking unimpeachable.
goddamn.
raising our actual child.
solo.

😐
really out here
having to ID my own husband
in a profile that
multiple people independently sent me
after i reported
this crazy ass shit—
which was clearly and fucking
shockingly (stupidly)
coordinated harassment
by him
and a woman who…
is literally advertising
that she’s the woman fucking harassing me.

✨🧠🐌✨

—

what???

the fuck?

bro, please go away.

🥋👊🔥✈️

—

anyway.

so yes, babe.

this is my real life. 🤯🤯🤯🤯

but it’s also
the exact moment
shit woke the fuck up.
because it stopped being
he said / she said
and started being:

oh shit.
they're harassing me.
in public.
frequently.
fucking boldly.

psychotic behavior.

🎶🕺💃

bro
if he looks like a
liar,
cheater,
and addict—
and he behaves like one,
publicly and fucking consistently,

🤵🏼🤥💔👰🏼

and…BABE.
if he was
literally burner-stalking me
while under felony bond
with a protective order
and a second fucking family.

then shit—

👏...👏...👏

bitch…
looks like it’s a fucking husband.

and
yeah homie
i think this
is the start of fucking justice

🎧🧘‍♀️✨

the plan includes: stalking the plaintiff and filing fake reports during open litigation. ✨🧠✨

so you,
really just did that.

…

congrats on turning your stalking
into strategy—for my claim.

let's break down what they just did—
and why it's legally stupid
and emotionally fucking embarrassing.

aka:
how you put
your obsession in writing,
your proximity on record,
and your malice on display.

—

let’s begin. 🕊️

🔥 1. girlie was watching like her rent fucking depended on it

but homie—
i never tagged her.
never contacted her.
never dm’d her.
and yet… my stories? seen within fucking minutes?

girl,
you didn’t just “come across” my posts.
you fucking came for me.
because…
you’ve been stalking and harassing me—
for…fucking…months.

before i even knew you fucking existed.
(because you’re irrelevant)

but you…like—
really want my husband
to take you fucking seriously.

ok.

which means:

➺ you’re stalking my profile like it’s the f***ing felony dispatch
➺ you’re definitely logged in from a burner or three
➺ you’re building a mental map of my content like it’s evidence for your own dumbass trial (spoiler: it’s about to be)

…

this is not passive fucking scrolling.
this is ongoing,
confirmed surveillance.
and in a court?
it reads as obsession.
it reads like a violation of the fucking felony bond.
ask a judge.
ask a Title IX panel.
they’ll all ask: “how did you even see this?”

and you?
won’t have an answer that doesn’t sound like,

“i was fucking stalking and harassing her along with her violent husband.”

—

📸 2. then you DM’d me. congrats. now you’re in the fucking case.

the second you opened your mouth in my inbox?
you stopped being “a bystander”
and became a participant.

you messaged a protected party
during an open criminal DV case
to intimidate her.

then you reported to have called the police.
twice.
while your monitoring alone,
was a fucking documented crime.

and you really thought
the kissy-face emoji would soften that?

no ma’am. it’s:

✨ threatening
✨ documented
✨ fucking retaliatory
✨ and happening while i have a restraining order and he’s out on bond

your DM is not just unhinged—it’s fucking admissible.

thanks for submitting your own stupid ass exhibit, babe.

—

🧠 3. then you reported me to my law school like it was a power move

holy shit.

this is the part that will haunt you in court.

you thought trying overt DARVO would silence me.
but all it did was corroborate every single thing i’ve said.

you confirmed:

✨ you're living with him
✨ you're actively monitoring me
✨ you're escalating against a DV victim
✨ you're involving institutions to shut me up

you are ✨ textbook retaliation. ✨

you didn’t file a complaint—you filed a fucking affidavit of guilt.
this is the legal equivalent of screaming
“I FUCKING DID IT!”
while lighting your own dumbass defense on fire.

—

⚖️ 4. and through all that? you couldn’t fuck with me

you wanted a meltdown.
you wanted drama.
you wanted chaos to blur the facts.

instead?
i made an appointment with the detective.
i filed a new police report.

babe—
you gave me 💋 evidence.
you gave me 💋 motive.
you gave me 💋 intent.

and i stayed factual, cool, and fucking ready.

babe,
i’ve dealt with abusers before.
this ain’t my first rodeo.

this isn’t just a bad look.
it’s civil conspiracy with a side of witness intimidation.

and i’m not mad, babe.
i’m goddamn documenting.

—

🖋️ burn book footnote:

if you thought stalking a baddie
with a federal restraining order and a binder of records
was going to end well for you…

then honey,
you were never the main character.
just the next bestie with a bump.

profanity ≠ fucking felony

BE.
SO.
FUCKING.
SERIOUS.

i’ve had people
lie,
defraud,
stalk,
threaten,
punch me,
choke me while pregnant,
violate fucking court orders,
commit actual felonies—
and you’re mad
that i said fucking slut
on my own website?

nope.

i don’t need
to mirror
the assholes
who hurt me.
i don’t stalk.
i don’t tag.
i definitely don’t fucking dm.
i don’t call up at jobs or schools.
i censor children.
i protect innocents.
i protect sensitive info.
i post fucking vibes
on one tab of my site,
for my goddamn sanity.

full fucking stop.

i have been reporting
fucking harassment,
stalking,
monitoring,
threats,
for fucking months
while you poked,
watched,
screenshot,
baited.
and the second i write about it?
you scream “harassment”?
go choke on the fucking irony.

nah.

nope.
stalking me
in the fucking first place
PROVES THE GODDAMN VIOLATION.

jesus fucking christ.

newsflash—

what i haven’t done:
➺ no fucking violence
➺ no threats
➺ no doxxing
➺ no contacting them or their weirdo burners
➺ no “go harass” bullshit
➺ no tags, no @’s, no fucking summons to a mob

what i have done:
➺ documented dates, injuries, screenshots, reports
➺ told the truth—sworn, timestamped, boringly fucking factual
➺ kept children out of the crossfire
➺ asked institutions to follow their own rules

and yet—
people with actual records
of harassment,
fucking stalking,
and court-order-breaking
are pointing at my poetry tab
and yelling “SEXUAL HARASSMENT!”

holy fucking shit.

as if a fucking pain poem
is more dangerous than a felony bond,
as if a fucking paragraph
is scarier than
strangling a fucking pregnant woman,
as if cursing
is somehow worse
than breaching restraining orders.

be
fucking
with me here in goddamn fucking reality.

my page is a reflection
and an archive, not a weapon.
my words aren’t contact.
my records aren’t harassment.
documentation is not a fucking crime.
profanity is not a felony.
violence is violence.
fraud is fraud.
stalking is fucking stalking.

if the best you’ve got on me
is that i used the f-word
while crying in my own FUCKING notebook,
then you just confessed
how small your fucking defense is.

rules:
✦ kids stay off-limits
✦ no contact means no fucking contact (direct or by proxy)
✦ institutions are for safety, not for slander
✦ evidence beats fucking fiction, every time

file this under:
i chose boundaries over bullshit.
if you don’t want
to be in the burn book,
stop committing fucking crimes.

when you’re so unchosen, you cohabitate with married men 💋🇨🇱

bro.

it’s the delusion for me.

like these women really built
their whole identity
around proving
i wasn’t “the one.”
holy shit.
meanwhile
i’m the fucking wife —
legally.
government-sealed.
i’ve got the last name,
the restraining order,
the fucking trauma therapy bills,
and the kid he abandoned.
you’ve got…
some terrible “couples photos”
of y’all goddamn trashed
circulating the fucking internet
when you’re like fucking forty.
and a toothbrush
in a dirty second bathroom.
congrats, queen.
he lets you fold his socks.
you’re just a whore
with roommate benefits.

you are the legal fucking abomination.

babe.
you’re the nightmare
that every mother
dreams their son
fucking never impregnates—

damn.

but still
they keep talking
like they won something.
girl, you won
visitation rights with a fucking felon.
congrats.

you’re doing drugs with married men,
paying rent late
in someone else’s name,
bragging about a man
who literally had to
flee fucking states
to avoid goddamn child support—
like babe,
that’s not a love story,
that’s an episode of fucking Intervention
with uglier casting.

and now?
baby,
i’ve got mugshots.
fucking eviction records.
your half-assed facebook aliases.
the archives are deep, honey.

you thought
you were proving i wasn’t chosen.
nah.
you just proved you’d settle
for being option fucking z,
as long
as it came with
a side of fucking delusion
and a gram bag.

babe.
you’re embarassing,
out here acting like
you’re not doing lines off a man
who still legally owes me fucking money.

let’s be fkn serious.

you bitches really
got played so hard
you started convincing yourselves
that being the side slut
of a married man
meant you were “the one”
who raised you????
a fucking raccoon?
like he was ever
gonna wife up the rebound blow dealer
with three open eviction cases
and a mugshot in pink crocs.

LMFAO.

no babe,
you weren’t chosen.
you were extremely cheap.
he needed a bed because i cut him off.
he picked you
because you were
the only one
who would get wasted
with a married man
let your kids call him daddy
while he abandoned his own fucking baby.

absolute trash.

and now
you’re online trying to flex what??
a felon on bond,
a burner instagram,
and 40 unread texts
from dallas jail?????
jesus christ.
this isn’t a relationship,
it’s a fucking social experiment.

🪦 may your rent never be late
(we know you can’t sign a lease)
and your addict never be legally mine again.
but let’s be real.
both those ships already fucking sank.

next slut.

💋

slam poetry: liar, cheater, drug user, defendant

wait.

nah.
nah nah nah nah nah nah.

they made the
coked-out,
side-questing,
court-dodging absentee father
the fucking “policy owner.”
of our family insurance.
of our child’s future.
change the fucking beneficiary
of the policy i’m paying for—
while he was
literally
running a second family
like a fucking living
polygamist in the
goddamn Old Testament??

LMFAO.

stfu.

yo.
and they wanna
call me “emotional.”
babe i’m not emotional.
i’m fucking prophetic.
this was negligence
with a side of fucking malice.
this was corporate malpractice
disguised as
shitty customer service.
this was “oops, he’s your emergency contact!”
while he was literally
the
fucking
emergency.

they handed this man
my financial legacy
via his fucking
goddamn secret office plug
like it was
a fucking vape pen
and said “sign here, king”
while the restraining order
was still fucking warm.

god fucking dammit.

like bro.
be fucking serious.
for goddamn once—
you knew he was
a liar
a cheater
a drug user
a FUCKING defendant—
and you STILL made him the owner?

that’s not an oversight.
that’s a fucking write-off.
that’s “if she dies, we profit.”
that’s “let’s keep it in his name, he seems chill.”
that’s “we didn’t think she’d go to law school.”

they watched him
abandon his goddamn kid,
bleed me dry,
drain my life savings mid-pregnancy,
fucking relapse,
move in with
someone else’s fucking children
AND STILL
had the corporate audacity to say:

“but he’s our client, not you.”

fuck your client.
he’s a one-man
war crime violation
with a custody fucking warrant.

they placed my
goddamn postpartum policies
in the hands
of a man
who couldn’t even place
his own child in a fucking car seat.
a man who thought
drug testing was fucking optional
and that cohabitating
with a new girlfriend mid‑felony bond
was “not that deep.”

meanwhile i’m paying premiums
on time
while folding tiny socks
and dodging burner accounts.
and they STILL never called to ask
“hey uh… is this guy stable?”

NAH BITCHES
spoiler:
he FUCKING wasn’t.

he was doing lines
while i was doing fucking bedtime.
he was using my social
our goddamn child’s fucking social—
to fund new furniture for his fake-ass texas life
while i was fighting
to make a trauma plan
with the fucking pediatrician.

and they just let it happen.
they said
“ownership means he has rights.”

so,
thanks goblin.
you specifically.
for the late-night hangs,
with my fucking husband—
the constant calls during pregnancy
and once we relocated—
all fucking postpartum—
the constant boundary breaches—
thanks for setting up
my husband
as the owner
of fucking everything—
while i was in the fucking ER
GIVING BIRTH.

while he was
unemployed.
and fucking spiraling.
at your goddamn apartment.

REPEATEDLY.

NICE.

thanks for doing
fucking ANYTHING
in my goddamn best interest.

shit.

baby,

that’s negligence.
that’s misconduct.
that’s dumb as fuck.

nah.

ownership without oversight
means you have blood on your hands
when it all collapses.

you let a crash dummy
own the fucking car.
you handed him the wheel
and then blamed me
when it FUCKING exploded.

so let’s be clear:
this is fucking shit-show.
this is a conspiracy of silence
and a paper trail of goddamn cowardice.

you knew.
you knew he was fucked up.
you all knew.
and you bet on my silence.
you bet he’d fucking kill us.
with violence
or goddamn poverty.

bad bet, bitch.

fuck you.

deadbeat dad live-streaming fraud on instagram 📡😟

a lil love letter to the king of community dick himself:

—

holy shit.
you really did that.
you really
let your side piece
post the entire fucking
intoxicated fucking timeline
TO THE PUBLIC
for everyone to fucking see

thank u for fucking
soft-launching ur second family
on main.
on multiple social platforms
across the entire fucking year
with timestamps.
while telling the court
u were “unemployed”
”IN SCHOOL”
and “fucking sober.”
LMFAO
nah.
u were in between her legs
drunk off your fucking ass
LIVESTREAMING
and someone else’s
fucking kids' daycare pickups.

holy fucking shit
thank u for posting
from orAN fUcking gOOd pARk
every time
u claimed u were broke
or too broken
to show the fuck up.
babe.
the only trauma
u had was fucking hangovers
and drugged out hard-ons, bro.

thank u
for proving u been cohabiting
with a whole ass household +
multiple fucking kids
since early 2025
super family man.
just not ur own fucking family.

thank u for
ALL OF THE FUCKING
bar tabs + concert selfies
fucking endless partying
right after u bonded out.
between holding her fucking kids—
perfect
“i’m not broke” fucking exhibit
for support court,
you goddamn dumbass.

thank u for the weekend
nonstop footage of you hammered
during ur “couldn’t possibly pay” era.
judge loves fucking fireworks budgets.
while you’re literally
living an entire secret second life.

thank u
for the photo fucking timestamps
that the entire fucking internet
is now forwarding me—
lining up w every missed hearing,
missed payment,
missed fucking dad duty.
math > lies, babe.

thank u
for letting ur side quest
follow the burner
that stalks me online.
with an entire fucking feed?
with you and her fucking kids??
you daddy…# 4, bro???

and…drinking on bond???
clearly fucked up while roleplaying dad?

holy fucking shit.

thanks for proving
fucking everything.
MID TWO COURT CASES
shit.
proxy contact?
documented.
absolutely fucking adorable.

thank u for ALL the geotags
so i don’t even need a PI—
just wifi + a goddamn printer.

thank u for the
“my heart’s birthday” caption
that’s long‑term integration,
not a rebound, champ.
matched with
the full fucking abandonment
of your 8 month old baby.
custody judges say hi.

forwarding everything
to the u.s. military.
don’t they hate this shit???
there’s already an open investigation
into the fucking fraud—
how did you let this happen???

LMFAO

thank u for outing
ur fucking documented leisure budget
while crying poverty.
while we can’t pay the goddamn power bill.
contempt hearings
feed on this kind of bullshit,
u fucking clown.

thank u for the third‑party witnesses
bartenders,
ticket takers,
neighbors,
random ass people on the internet
that know her
and are sending me every record—
u literally crowdsourced my subpoena list
the internet hates you.

thank u for locking ur account
the second it got hot.
consciousness of guilt in aesthetic mode 🔒

thank u for posting ur drunk face mid‑case.
even if it’s legal,
it screams “judgment? never met her.”

thank u for the check‑ins + travel logs
that prove court isn’t “too far,”
ur just too cowardly
and raising some random bitches kids
that lets you get wasted around them.

thank u for showing who funds u
and that you’ve always had multiple women
that you lie to—
while ur own kid gets fucking zero.
that’s exhibit a for “ability to pay, your honor.”

thank u for syncing ur intoxicated,
adulterous, vile-ass saga
w the burner smear campaign.
pattern evidence
writes itself when clowns honk in unison.

thank u for handing me
ur timeline of not parenting
while i parented solo.
on welfare—
while your former employer
defrauded me
out of our entire fucking portfolio
of goddamn life policies
claiming they were FUCKING yours.

like??
so…he’s out here
with a secret fucking second family
zero contact with
his own child
complete fucking abandonment
post repeatedly assaulting me
on fucking record

…but northwestern mutual
says he owns my
kid’s LIFE POLICY
THAT I SIGNED AND PAID FOR—

?????

FUCKING PERFECT
best‑interests factors just came.

you blew this shit up
PRE DISCOVERY

a liar
a cheater
a fucking fraud

fits the exact fact pattern
i was trying to fucking prove.

…

SO THANK YOU.

…thank u
for documenting overnights
in a new fucking household
while lying about being “unstable.”
liar, meet exhibit.

thank u for the “we’re so happy” montage
while out getting fucking wasted
right before court day.
impeachment w filters.

thank u for the deleted posts
+ “oops” edits.
forensic confetti, baby.

thank u for proving motive to
hide,
evade,
fucking smear.
intent + plan + absence of mistake—
congrats,
ur a fucking syllabus now.

thank u for making me the reasonable parent
by default.
fucking art.

bro, how embarrassed is your mother
of this shit????
you look…like you’re…not doing well.
documented
full-blown spiral??
unemployed for…

but multiple
concerts,
bars,
outings???
every
single
month??

since you walked out on your family???

fucking nice.

summary for court
since u outsourced ur alibi to instagram:
u didn’t just move on—u moved resources.
u didn’t just date—u diverted duty.
u didn’t just lie—u live‑streamed the fucking lie.

next move?
i print it,
tab it,
staple ur vibes to the fucking ruling,
walk that shit
directly into court—
and let the judge
read ur own captions out loud.

wow.
being fucked up
makes you fucking stupid.

“local texas stepdad of the year” 🤡⭐🏈🤠🌵

nah bro
i’m not even mad.
✨holy shit.✨
i’m fucking laughing.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

presenting…

🦸‍♂️🏈🤘🏽 (the texas stepdad out on felony bond)

—

first off???

the chick—
absolutely tracks

like ok…

who the fuck
lets
a goddamn felon
out on fucking bond
who has ditched
his fucking own baby;
has a well-documented
substance abuse problem…
who has
strangled and punched 🤘🔥
his pregnant wife—

✨around their small-ass children?✨

wow…

WOW.
—

like imagine it—
abandoning your own blood,
having multiple restraining orders,
two fucking counties worth of mugshots,
and then
✨deciding✨
your next character arc is

“heroic texas stepdad.”

?????

WHAT

🤠🎸⭐

oh my fucking god.

that’s absolutely fucking

pyschotic.

babe,
you’re not healing—
you’re fucking rebranding.

he’s basically
out there running a clearance
rehab-through-replacement program.

“new family, who dis?” but make it…addict energy.

“she let’s me casually ✨[despite being around children]✨ use substances and doesn’t call me out”

🇺🇲🤠👢🏈

yoooo.

just a sweaty,
bloated—
strung-out man…
with court debt…a kid he doesn’t know…
and fucking delusion,
roleplaying emotional stability
with someone else’s fucking kids???

—

and the girl?
obviously tragic.
she must think
she rescued a fucking wounded soul.

lmfao.
but baby,
that’s just the same junkie
in a different fucking jurisdiction.

🏜️🌵☀️🏈

and honestly,
looks like you’re exactly
the type
to be “cool”
with that low key
constant partying.

💋

damn,
i saw the pics.
no one dresses like that
without substances being involved.

but…🗣️ kids though???

shit.
i guess
she’s gonna learn the hard way
that “he’s so good with juveniles”
means
“he’s lovebombing minors to prove he’s not a fucking monster.”

—

and god damn…

like…
are they going
fucking trick-or-treating??
nooooo.
stop.
like a full ass rent-a-dad??
with someone else’s
legal husband??
who has his own kid??????

yo.

god bless texas 🇨🇱

lmfao.

also…
legally….
already has his own
actual daughter??
(and wife)
with his own…
actual last name
that he’s stealing dependent pay for???

to spend on…your kids?

🦸‍♂️🤠🐎🔥

getting extra funding???

for being married…

but living… with you?
and your…
THREE(+??) CHILDREN???

DAMN. 🇨🇱

but like…straight fucking federal fraud???

🔥 bold 🔥

…like,
what are
y’all buying,
with the hundreds of dollars
every month
he’s extorting
from VA pay for his child
and the
9 months back-pay
court-mandated support
that…is…high enough
to send him back to fucking jail??

so like…
on that stolen cash…
is he buying your kid’s shit?

or…
some alcohol for y’all???

uh ohhhh.

paying some of your bills?

—

meanwhile
i’m over here like—
congrats king,
your growth arc
has the same plot
as a fucking stray dog.

🔥 find a bed.
🔥 find a home to crash.
🔥 find a bitch to feed you.
🔥get adopted by a whole ✨dumbass family.✨

—

while your kid
says “daddy??”
to random fucking strangers…

but…bro…go…do some more drugs.

🏈🔥

a backstabbing bestie: “lol. but he shouldn’t have her number, though”

so…girl.
they didn’t get caught.

nah.
they prayed for that shit—
babe!
texted first,
and fucking volunteered.

like—

“hi i’d like to out myself as a backstabbing bitch side character
…and i’m also possibly on drugs with my bff’s husband. thanks.”

…

but
why am i not talking about
the main fucking event
of the goddamn
stupid,
sloppy,
twat-tastic betrayal olympics?

because—
IT’S
NOT
THAT
FUCKING
DEEP.

it’s just highly fucking dumb and well fucking documented.

—

but baby,
it’s fucking boring.
because…
of fucking course she did that.

because it’s too…fucking…predictable.

—

yo…this one?

shit.
everyone said she was
a dumb,
tragic,
attention-seeking—
male slobbering whore.
…like…forever.

me?
i just always told them—
to shut the fuck up.

lol.
how stupid.

—

because
apparently
the way you find out
your husband and your bestie
are both bottom‑shelf humans
is…
fucking silly as shit.

like
imagine
getting caught
not because
you’re too well planned,
too fucking brilliant
absolutely the fuck not—
but
because
you couldn’t
shut the fuck up…
in a group text???

…
on a fucking crash out???
at like…noon.
on a weekday.

like bro
target was open.
people were on their lunch breaks.
and y’all were out here
writing rom coms about my fucking downfall
in front of multiple witnesses???

she answered
like she had lines like
”omg—
yeah he did call me.
but like i never spoke to him”—
bullshit ready to fucking go
he typed like he
snorted goddamn punctuation.
and i just sat there like
damn.
babe.
the whole thing was giving
“i was absolutely not involved except for the part where i was absolutely involved.”

and like—
what were they expecting me to do?
read it and be like
“aw, slay, i love a co-written alibi”?

what the fuck
have these dumbasses
been…getting into?

…

so, yeah—
it wasn’t even betrayal at that point.
it was just fucking embarrassing.

like…
this is the emotional equivalent
of watching someone
trip over a fucking curb
then blame the sidewalk.

you ok bro???

—

because nah—

not me
thinking i had
a fucking best friend
when in fucking reality
i just had a wart-infected,
jealous,
highly desperate,
aging so fucking badly—
fucking psychotic fan-girl
with boundary issues
and a moral compass
that runs on blow and
second-hand male attention…
out of whatever
fucking dumpster she can
dig it out of…

like sissy—
if you wanted
to suck my husband’s dick
that
fucking
bad—
you could’ve just asked
for a fucking loyalty punch card.
i would’ve laminated it.
you highly pathetic slut.

nope.

but—

instead?
you played
the fucking long game
of “teehee i care about you”
when you were
really
just waiting for him to
fucking relapse
so you could feel better
about your
horrendous fucking personality.

—

newsflash:
you spread
an STD to a human hoodie
and humped,
goddamn slobbered—
for a fucking
bump of attention
and thought it made you relevant.
that’s not a win, babe.
that’s just
viral infections on fucking narcotics.

😐👏

and him?
bro,
he’s so
fucking tweaked
once he vacates
his new nj plug
and the entire goddamn state
this motherfucker??
he group-texted—
yes.
his fucking dumbass villain origin story
in the middle of the fucking day
like we were all
gonna read it and go,
“damn. he’s right. she def cheated.”

bro
you left the state,
left your kid,
left your fucking dignity
in a puddle of
goddamn adderall dust
and now you're mad
i got the fucking timeline right?

nah.
you two deserve each other.
truly.
because everyone always said
yo,
”sam—
she’s clearly a
backstabbing hoe & absolute trash.
and bitch,
he’s obviously fucking psychotic.”

and i said??
”nah.
they’re good.
they’re fucking trying.”
BUT FUCKING NOPE—
two crusty fucking lil goblins
who think “fidelity” is
a kind of
fucking financial institution,
where you snort
and then
fuck in the
tiny-ass cubicles.

sounds about fucking right.

congrats.
hope y’all are happy
in hell or jersey
whichever comes first.

uh oh. 💻 the cloud hates you personally

🔦

aka: perjury season

—

shit.
delete doesn’t mean
gone,
fucking idiot
i don’t need sex tapes.
i’ve got the fucking timestamps, babe.

oh my god.
i don’t do vibes,
i do fucking evidence

we’ve got—
logins,
pings,
and public humiliation

i don’t need confessions.
i’ve got patterns that
line up like ugly-ass fucking ducklings
of ER visits, crashouts and goddamn venmo receipts.

i don’t need your absolute legal fanfic.
i’ve got the receipts your sloppy-ass
left in six recorded drug thefts,
seventeen location shares
and a fucking wifi login,
you absolute
dipshit,
amateurs.

🔬🧬🧤

here’s the science, sweetheart:

lies are obvious.
and every one of you
tone-deaf fucking clowns
left the same
stupid fucking trail—

same nights,
same pings,
same cash advance—
same 7-Eleven
or Wal*Mart
fucking sob story.

so fucking cute.
tragic.
absolutely incriminating.

but shit,
i clocked the timelines.
the text overlaps—
i mapped the pings.
i screenshotted the fucking
“oops deleted”s
before your crusty thumbs
fumbled the fucking trash icon.

heads up motherfuckers:
the cloud
does not give a single shit
about your
trash ass reputation
or your fucking situationship.

the math?
absolutely filthy.
finished.
fucking framed.

continuity of conduct.

devices acting like they’re handcuffed together.
payments fucking
talking shit
at the exact minute
your dumbass alibis “took a fucking nap.”

and those alibis?
only work if
the sun took a personal day and gravity called out sick.

lol
i’m not posting details.
i’m posting inevitability.
the rest?
i’ll save for court,
as you keep signing docs
locking you into a narrative—
that doesn’t make sense
matched with the fucking records—
that shit smells like
fucking perjury?

cross-refs for dummies.

duplicates offsite
with grandma’s church gloves on
the chain-of-custody.

subpoenas templated
like bedtime prayers—kneel, say “amen,”
and hope your professional chat
doesn’t get read in court like
fucking low budget porn—
but everyone’s a cokehead
and nobody’s getting paid.
just herpes.

bitches
go hydrate.

phone a fucking friend.

call that “crisis manager” who can’t spell metadata.

ask them
about exif stamps,
baby. ask them about ip drift.
ask them why your “private” folder
is fucking blinking back
at three jurisdictions.

hehe.

no names today.
no screenshots.

just the sound
of a locked folder
fucking yawning open
and every version
of your “truth”
hanging up like
cheap cigs and fucking regret.

if you touched it,
baby,
it touched back.

if you typed it,
it’s on the record.

if you synced it,
it is there—by god.

is it scary??

knowing—
you didn’t get away with shit.
and it’s going to be out there,
on the fucking record??
because baby,
you did that shit—
and this?
this is the fucking reveal.
it’s a goddamn countdown.

tick.

tick.

bring a lawyer,
bring a fucking oatmilk latte—

boom.

this month’s “lol i can’t pay that shit” list

babe—
shit is
all a part of
✨the long con✨
…by a balding drug addict
(felony mugshot available)
…and his cast of (rotating) yayo whores©

🤥💰🤝😈🐍🍎

aka:
how to defraud a wife
and a newborn—
and leave them with
absolutely
fucking nothing
+
refuse to pay child support—
while you fund
two💥
fucking💥
law firms💥
to fight over shit
you absolutely did—

⚠️🐀

aka: a masterclass in
fucking away a shit ton of money
to cover up the fact that you’re a terrible fucking person…
surrounded…
aided and abetted by…
more demonically terrible fucking people…

🥵😫🤯🔥👇🐐🪱

the october list
of shit
i don’t have enough
money for:

🥁🥁✨
🥁🥁✨
🥁🥁✨

✦ car payment— 🔥
already 3 days past due
(fucking dumped $20k on payments
for a fucking car i didn’t need
and can’t fucking afford)

✦ tuition balance— 🔥
even after max fed loan
(hope that g.i. bill +
dependent pay
is doing you solid
you fucking con artist)

✦ school books— 🔥
nah, nope.
(absolutely zero hope
for $500 to secure textbooks
lmfao, a joke)

✦ groceries— 🔥🔥🔥
floating on a fucking credit card
(ebt card got lost in the mail and is now cut)

✦ bro dumped the nj car— 🔥
so now that bitch needs
an oil change
+ empty that shit
+ rotation

(thanks for the fucking help)

✦ all new tires— 🔥🔥🔥🔥
shit is bald as fuck
damn—just like the babydaddy!
(after two cross-country
fucking trauma relays)

ok so i have
[zero dollars]
+ $53 in savings
+ credit card debt from groceries
💯➕🖐️➕✌️
𝞹📈🧠
⁴⁄₅

(does some mental math) 💀

hmmmmm……..

yep.
🗣️ i guess
getting fucking deserted
with all the fucking debt,
zero savings,
zero tuition reimbursement,
all the fucking payments,
zero child care / co-parent help,
zero fucking child support.
will do that to a bitch.

👹❤️‍🔥

so….

🗣️ who
🗣️ the
🗣️ fuck
is paying
for a wife beater
+ child abandoner
👹🔱🔥⛓️🦇
to have
so many fucking
goddamn
lawyers
when the
same fucking dude
[👹🔱🔥]
has defaulted
a
fucking
year
on court-mandated child support?

😈🐍💰

hmmmmmmmm.

who
could
hate
his wife
+ his child
so much,
they would pay
felony bond
but not
send grocery money?

🐐⛧🔥

(y’all are straight up evil)

….i guess we’ll find out.

✨⚖️✨

but shit—

at least now,
that fuckshit is squarely
on the fucking record. ✨📢

👹❤️‍🔥💀

yo
we’re fighting
fucking true demonic
disasters of humans
out here.

🐐⛧🔥

🚬 stimulant dick math 101 🐔🏃💨

🤡💥📢

so here’s what
my family
breaks down to…

—

📉 the relapse equation:

woman w/ drugs + man w/ no self-worth

→ free supply + emotional delusion
→ coke-fueled sex
→ shame
→ ghosting or violence
→ repeat with new bitch

🤡🤯

…

oh
my
fucking
god.

how fucking stupid.

—

💥

babe,
he wasn’t just cheating
he was cheating on drugs
which means the sex was terrible
and the lies were fucking dopey.

demon addict math is like…
✦ does she give desperate?
✦ does she have coke energy?
✦ does she have so little self-esteem she’ll become obsessed with my actual wifey?
✦ does she fucking trauma-dump in the first 5 minutes?
✦ does she think broken men just “need the right girl”?

ding ding ding.
(🤡🤡🤡)
we got a new dumbass contestant.

provable fact pattern?
try:

🔥 open & documented addiction
🔥 hundreds of missing Adderall
🔥 repeated venmo transfers from the plug
🔥 reported crashout spirals
🔥 documented violence
🔥 financial fraud
🔥 stalker panics
🔥 me—pregnant/postpartum/single mom
🔥 him—rawdogging fucking chaos for drugs

—

so let’s run it back,
super simple—

🧪
junkie boy math:

✦ girl w/ drugs
✦ man w/ no job, no soul, and a soft dick
= coke + head

then
✦ coke + head
✦ crippling shame spiral
= gaslight + ghost

then
✦ gaslight + ghost
✦ new useless girl w/ a dab pen and zero standards
= new relapse, same diseased dick

repeat until eviction or overdose.

—

and me?
funding the whole fucking psych ward.

shit.

i wasn’t wrong.
i was right too fucking early.

and every bitch
who thought my silence
meant a fucking pass?
🗣️ NAH
sorry silly bitches—
welcome to the fucking syllabus.

—

⚡️ chapter one: betrayal and stds.
⚡️ chapter two: pharmacology and drugs.
⚡️ chapter three: fucking dead to me.
⚡️ chapter four: i blow this shit up.

on repeat.

—

so again,

🤯 the official formula for stimulant sidepieces:

access + attention + addiction =

✨delusional bitch behavior✨

—

🔥💩 aka:

he doesn’t fall in love
he snorts new fucking supply.

these girls
aren’t soulmates
they’re fucking pathetic-ass
flashlights in the goddamn trap house
of fucking delusions…
for thirty-something-year-old losers.

🤡 temporary.
🤡 sweaty.
🤡 bad breath.
🤡 worse sex.
🤡 full of regret.
🤡 must flee out of embarrassment.

…

until he
finds the next idiot
who thinks—
snorting off a dashboard,
backseat dick,
and
goddamn desperation
are fucking sexy.

🐔🏃💨

✶ shit—it’s not defamation if it’s fucking true ✶

this ain’t defamation.
it’s fucking documentation.
because baby,
guess what?

every
fucking
record
backs
this shit.

every message proves it.
every fucking spiral,
crash,
venmo,
stalker,
fucking drug binge,
goddamn vanishing-act,
poof—
reappearance,
is
on
the
fucking
record.

—

these bitches?
not complex.
they’re a fucking
tiny car of whore-tastic
full on fucking blow clowns—
with crashouts
like a goddamn
coke-spiral
the second
the fucking bag
hits the goddamn dashboard.
(takes it up the nose…together)
shit,
it fucks like a weapon.
and plays dead
the moment
the fucking lights come on.

shit.
and me?
you know what the fuck
i’m allowed to do?

—

…

feel it.
say it.
publish it.
fucking survive it.

because
i didn’t stalk fucking anyone.
i didn’t beat anyone.
i didn’t do fucking drugs
with somebody’s fucking husband
i didn’t hide behind
burner ips
or blow
or private texts
while handing off
my baby to a fucking traitor.

nah.

i’m honest.
i’m not a fucking addict.
i’m definitely not a fucking whore.

but nah,

i survived that shit
in real time
and stitched my own
goddamn ribs back together
with grad school notes
and fucking court docs—
while these
dusty,
cum-brained fucking liars
hid behind silence.

—

you think this is damaging?
you think this
hurts your little reputation?
good.

because guess what?
six months ago,
i thought it was
all the war on fucking terror.
the goddamn bombs.
the missing fucking body part—
the dead fucking dad—
i thought he loved me.
at least enough
to not nearly
give me fucking syphilis
i thought she was my family.
i thought y’all were fucking human.
and it took
one stupid,
dumb smug bitch
mocking me
through a fucking life insurance policy
to blow
the whole goddamn thing open.

—

so,
now i know.
you were all part
of the same diseased-ass little machine.
and i’m not going
to court
for calling a parasite
a parasite.
you don’t get to
stab me in the fucking back
legally and metaphorically
and then fucking
silence me.

—

you want peace?
you should’ve left me alive.
but now i’ve got records.
and rage.
and a fucking platform.

so fuck your hiding.
fuck your shame.
and fuck the idea
that this is too brutal.
y’all didn’t give
a single fuck
if we died—

and this shit?
it’s not even fucking close.

✶ congratulations. you're nobody. ✶

can you imagine?
being such a
societal fucking virus,
your entire plot
is coke and low-grade head??

shit—
you weren’t special.
you weren’t wanted.
you were chemically convenient.

you were a warm body
during fucking withdrawal.
a filthy secret during a fucking relapse.
a dumb little twat in a marriage
you weren’t fucking invited to.

like damn bitch,
which number were you??

these sluts were part of a pattern:

📍 snort yay → lie → fuck → ghost → spiral → std clinic.

you’re not the villain.
you’re not the prey.
you’re the fucking symptom.

omg,
he used you.
and when the coke dried up,
so did y’alls whole-ass fucking story.

every.
single.
time.

he flees out of
fucking EMBARRASSMENT.

and y’all?
you watched me post about
domestic fucking violence,
getting punched in the fucking brain,
barely escaping with my fucking life,
goddamn pregnancy-murder plot,
fucking brutal betrayal,
and you still thought maybe,
you were the fucking exception??

holy shit.

—

girl,
you’re just another plug.
you’re the reason
they put “other” on the fucking paperwork.
you’re why
they ask how many partners
in the last 6 months,
while he slides his ring off—
and the room goes fucking silent.

—

like damn,
y’all were so forgettable
that even this
walking std of a man,
who defrauded me,
(mid-fucking pregnancy)
beat me,
and lied for fucking game—
didn’t bother
to name you.
because
you weren’t worth defending.

my fucking god,
you didn’t ruin anything.
you didn’t change the ending.
you just confirmed
who was always fucking
straight-up trash.
him.

and you.

—

it sucks,
but this is why…
no one wants you.
and babe?
no one ever will.

and y’all
are
looking…

aged.

💀

goofy bitches 🤫😬

girl.

if you’re being a brazen hoe in public
you’re probably
being a
full-blown fucking predator
in private.
this was never fucking stupor
this was a fucking campaign
you were just dumb enough
to think
i wouldn’t call it?

😈🪜🤷🏻‍♀️

like,
bitch—
have you met me?

newsflash
you were the mutant control group
i was the main fucking study

—

girl,
did you really
just out yourself???

in fucking public?

jesus
fucking
christ.

🤫😬

you
are
a
fucking
embarrassment.

to everything fucking holy.

—

you really thought
you were getting away with it
because
i was busy
not being fucking mean?
bitch.

let’s
fucking
GO.

🔥🔥🔥

(yes, i’m 100% going to say this shit out loud…forever.)

baby,

i was busy building
a whole fucking life
paying for three
raising one
shit you know nothing about—
because
all you’ve ever done
is hump the leg
of whatever dude might
pay your fucking rent
(this month)—
while me??
i’m fucking out here
watching
multiple
fucking
snakes
circle me
and still making
goddamn payments.

but now?
girlies,
now i ain’t busy.
now i have time.

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍💋

and i see you.
and everyone is gunna see you too.

…

🔥 the fucking truth. 🔥

the fucking dirty,
disgusting,
insecure,
aging.
(badly)
(girlie—it’s the blow)

truth.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

—

you do not get to
fuck with my shit
after pissing on my goddamn name
you do not get access
after crawling
through the fucking doggy door
of goddamn decency.

🙈✨🙏

you cheated on your own man
got cheated on by him
called it fucking feminism
then showed up
in my fucking inbox
with “i just wanted to check in 🥺”

bitch,
i’m sure the fuck you do.

no.

🙃✨

you wanted to
scope the fucking damage
you wanted to know if i knew
and i fucking do.

—

hey,
you fucking sociopath—

🗣️ you’re ten times worse
🗣️ than your fucking mother.

🎭🐍

🗣️ your mother?

🗣️ she’s been through shit.
🗣️you?

🗣️you’re just a fucking asshole.
🗣️🗣️ spoiled.
highly fucking annoying—
…patted on the fucking head
way too fucking many
goddamn times;
for bullshit
no one fucking cares about—
immoral,
honestly,
a fucking evil—
selfish-ass,
fucking BRAT.

🎭🤫😈

you really
started to believe you
were that fucking
✨special✨

a fucking goddamn exception??

⚡️👑👹

naw dawg.
that’s a no.
nope.
not in the fucking slightest.
you owed me fucking everything—
and you??
fucked me over?
the
first
fucking
chance
you
fucking
got.

—

with a fucking cokehead?????

damn, what a true fucking whore.

😏✨🧴😎

…

at least your mom was hot…

—

bitch—

wake the fuck up

we’re almost fucking forty.

and you’re a piece of shit.

you’re not misunderstood
you’re fucking manipulative
you’re not insecure
you’re weaponized 🫦
you’re not sad
you’re fucking scary

and babe,
i’m not fucking scared of you.

nah.

shit’s about to get fucking real.

—

🗑 you’re a dumb twat.
🧾 you’re fucking documented.
💣 you’ve always been fucking irrelevant.

listen,
you fake ass bitch
i’m not dragging this shit out
i’m not asking for fucking clarity
i’m not confronting you
because confrontation
implies you’re still in the story.
you’re not.

you’re a fucking tragedy.
a goddamn disaster.
a true fucking embarrassment.
you’re the reason
my daughter
will know the difference
between a friend
and a fucking virus.

aka: auntie vibes, right? 💋

—

final fucking notice:
if you ever see me?
walk the other fucking way.
if you’ve ever
used my fucking trust
as a goddamn disguise
to creep closer
to what you thought
was fucking
yours to shit on??
you will be
burned in fucking ink.

not
because
i need revenge.
nah slut,
but because i need
the next bitch
to read the fucking footnotes
and know:
i see fucking everything.
and nah,
that shit bites back.

🪓

you’re guilty as fuck.
thanks for the confirmation—
you dumb twat.

🤡🤏✨

petty, highly disrespectful, conspiracy girl vibes 🧘‍♀️🪨✨🐀✨

✨…🔮...✨

yeah nah fuck the poetic shit.
let’s call it what it is.

🗝✨🐀✨

bro.

half these
dumb
bitches
knew.

🧘‍♀️🪨✨🤫

they knew my husband
was out here snorting
half the fucking zip code
and raw-dogging
anything
with self-esteem issues and a fucking pulse.
and they fucking loved it.
because watching me
get dragged through hell
made them feel
a little prettier,
more relevant for once
in their fucking lives???

👉🏻🧠👈🏻

yooooo—
wait
what the fuck????
'cause once the shock wears off
and the shame stops
fucking glitching
your nervous system,
you start motherfucking
connecting the goddamn dots
so fast it’s like—

🤫😶‍🌫😈

“wait. hold the fuck on.
how many people KNEW my husband
was a coked-out, cheating, broke-ass loser
and just.
said.
nothing??”

✨🧘✨

…NOTHING?

☁️😶✨💡

shit.

based on the records—

this wasn’t a secret.
it was community fucking theater.
everyone had a goddamn role—
the coke fairy,
the “just friends” coworkers,
the fake-woke girlboss party girl?!?!
screaming self-care
while sneaking his number
to connect the next fucking bump????

noooooo.
bro.

🗣️ this shit
🗣️...🗣️ ain’t for the weak.
this shit is psychotic.✨

babe,
he wasn’t hiding it.
he was a sloppy,
jaw-grinding fucking mess
with powder on his nose
and a story that changed
every five fucking minutes.
and these clowns
were like “omg he’s so tortured”
bitch
he is not tortured,
he’s
fucking
tweaked.

🕯️🤍✨

they all wanted to see
the bad bitch wife crack.
wanted to watch
me get absolutely fucked—
because shit,
sorry i’m the one who
actually had
fucking goals, savings, teeth.
BESIDES FUCKING PARTYING
STD TESTS
AND GODDAMN DRUGS.
so
they giggled and whispered
and helped him spiral??
like it was some
fucking charity project
for insecure whores?????

🤡🎭💭

and me?
bitch,
paying bills,
thinking i was saving a man.
nah.
i was sponsoring a cokehead circus.
funding their weekend content.

😶...

then the
crash came—
trailer park,
burner phone,
full mugshot energy—
and suddenly nobody
“knew anything.”
yeah fucking right.
every
single
one
of
you
saw it
and did fucking nothing
because you liked the fucking view.

🌙🤫...

shit,
you might have even
hooked up too,
sent some shitty texts,
because listen,
i see it all now.
i’ve ran the dates
over
and over
and it sucks
to realize
you married a fucking
addict
and everyone
took a fucking piss on you
while he lit you the fuck on fire.

like a—
straight fuck you bitch,
stop being
so fucking real
and fucking authentic.
we fucking hate it.

…i got it.

🧠💭👤✨

i ain’t even
mad anymore,
i’m fucking impressed.
that much
group delusion
should qualify
for a fucking tax break.

and what’s better
than a front row seat
to watch
the quirky,
cool,
remarkably-fucking-driven
ethically sound girl,
who naturally gets attention,
for not being a piece of shit,
fucking get gutted
by the crackhead
she married?

bet.
fucking love that shit.

⚙️💭 because here’s the math

…

🧠 textbook “my bestie most def fucked my husband on a coke bender” checklist:

✔️ they had “one night” with vibes + (me?!) and flirtation
✔️ he got her number at the exact moment of relapse
✔️ he stimulant spiraled fucking hard right after
✔️ she ghosted you like you cheated on her
✔️ he stopped sleeping and started fucking scheming
✔️ she went mute during your relocation spiral
✔️ not a single “u ok?” as you literally raised his child alone
✔️ you kept wondering why her absence felt so fucking guilty

omg.
girl.
'cause it was.

🥀

it didn’t come
with a confession.

it came with—
coke lock-jaw,
burner phones,
and your husband hiding in a fucking trailer
while your “homies”
posed fucking innocence
with their goddamn
notifications turned off
and phone face down.

(shit)

and now—
they’re goddamn mute?

lol.

nah.

feels like…guilty.

yo,
i remember who
vanished
when it fucking mattered.

so here’s
the fucking closure,
straight from my fucking chest:
you all played yourselves.
you backed the loser.
you bet
against the bitch
who doesn’t lie, cheat—
or fucking steal,
(never had to) and shit—
who keeps the goddamn lights on.

let me just say,
i know what happened.
i know who sucked,
snorted,
and covered it the fuck up.
and i’m still here—
alive,
louder,
funnier,
un-fucking-bothered—
while every one of you’s stuck
replaying the same crusty night
you thought made you special.

but now makes you
feel like a fucking loser.

rot in the group chat.

breach, babe: proximate cause edition

nm’s lack of supervision + goblin = the chain that wrecked my life (during his employment, explicitly).

y’all this is like…totally all your fault.

✨🐍

thesis:

they didn’t just “fail to supervise.”
they set the risk in motion and kept it running:
assigning a conflicted rep (goblin),
tolerating off-channel contact and $$$ flows, exploiting me
as payor/underwriter, and maintaining proximity to an
impaired zero-production trainee because optics > duty.
everything that followed—assaults, a totaled car, drained accounts—
wasn’t a random storm; it was the foreseeable fallout of their pipeline.

who owed what (duty, not vibes) 🤡🍿💍🐍✨

✳ nm (firm + managers): hire/supervise with reasonable care;
block conflicts; stop off-channel; protect client data;
escalate red flags;
don’t use a spouse-payor as the financial backstop
while routing control to the unstable employee.

✳ goblin (assigned/acting rep): no conflicted dual roles;
no personal $$ entanglement with the trainee;
no off-channel onboarding;
no exploitation of my payor status while hiding material facts.

✳ to me (the spouse-payor + onboarding client): keep
communications professional, on-channel, and non-predatory;
disclose conflicts; don’t siphon access/control through an impaired insider.

breach (receipts i actually have) ✨🐀✨

✳ off-channel: instagram dms about onboarding/IRA/coverage
while she had my file.

✳ $$ entanglement: payments of large amounts between
goblin and him while she’s in my pipeline.

✳ reassignment optics: “goblin assigned to sam”
while she’s also in his personal orbit.
(and hosting him in her apartment)

✳ zero-production but full-presence: he’s in-office
despite no sales/licensing; supervision still mandates proximity
(late 2023) knowing he’s spiraling.

✳ billing vs. truth: i’m billed/solicited as payor while
ownership/beneficiary control is routed away from me.

✳ spoliation-adjacent: key off-channel comms vanish
post-hold. pattern screams concealment, not compliance.

the causation ribbon (how they set it in motion) 🤡💥👀👤

(proximate cause ≠ only cause; it’s the direct, foreseeable chain they created.)

1. they place him inside a conflicted triangle
   senior proximity + goblin’s access + my wallet.
   the risk set: impaired employee + personal-financial
   entanglement + off-channel control of a spouse-payor.

2. they keep him there (late 2023 → early 2024)
   zero production, still “in the office,” still near goblin,
   still burning cash i’m fronting.
   foreseeable pressure + escalation at home.

3. they route decisions through the conflict
   goblin has my files & access while $$ flows to him,
   and i’m induced to fund “coverage” during a DV spiral.
   foreseeable result: financial depletion.

4. they normalize the spiral
   red flags (drug-adjacent behavior, volatility, off-channel)
   are not deterrents; they’re conditions of retention.
   foreseeable result: violence + crisis events
   (including the car totaled window) as the home front collapses
   under the same stress they stoked.

5. they keep billing me while control drifts
   my payments continue, ownership/control migrate,
   and i’m stranded with bills + no benefit. foreseeable result:
   debt, missed payments, academic/work disruption.

translation: nm + goblin didn’t just fail to prevent harm;
they created the field of play where harm was
the ordinary outcome: an impaired insider with private access
to the payor-spouse and a conflicted rep
managing the file off the books.

why this is proximate cause (not just “sad story”)

✳ sufficiently direct: their decisions put us in the intersection—
personal $$ flows + off-channel control + office proximity—
so the collision (dv escalation, car wreck, money drain)
was the predictable crash, not a cosmic accident.

✳ foreseeable reactions: when you (a) keep an impaired,
non-producing recruit “in house,” (b) let a conflicted rep handle
his spouse’s finances off-channel, and (c) make the spouse payor
while stripping control, the ordinary human reaction is escalation:
fights, financial strain, dangerous driving, and acute safety risk.

✳ no superseding break: his bad acts are the very risks
their breaches created. you don’t get to light the fuse
and call the explosion “independent.”

damages (the ledger this chain produced) ❄️💊🤡✨

• economic

  • premiums/fees i paid while control/benefit drifted.

  • medical/therapy costs tied to assaults.

  • car replacement/repair, towing, lost work time.

  • emergency childcare, travel, and court costs.

  • exam/education disruptions → lost opportunities.

• non-economic

  • fear, sleep loss, PTSD spikes, reputational fallout.

• consequential

  • time diverted to evidence preservation/litigation.

  • credit hits from the drain + chaos window.

• punitive hook

  • off-channel + spoliation + conflict concealment =
    conscience-shocking enough to justify punitive interest.

y’all—smells like a rat ✨🐀✨

🚩 holy shit: a fucking case study in covert girlpower® sabotage 🚩

fuck it.

since it’s a…
burn book
+
i’m in the goddamn
trenches of the fucking $30 an hour
childcare reliability + sunk cost desert—

here it is…the
🚩 holy shit: a fucking case study in covert girlpower® sabotage 🚩

the girlpower® exchange setup:

✱ accepted a paid role plus a 500-hr ytt trade.
✱ took a two-week break mid-semester. (fine, conveyed in advance)
✱ then canceled the third week: morning-of class during midterms.
✱ essentially—missed a (roughly $750 per pop) crim law class
~due to lack of last-minute sitter.
✱ tried to pop back in next day; like it was a vibe—
but had literally just claimed she was
“too sick, day prior.”

bro,
and i already scrambled to find back up…again?

…

(girl, what?????)

...but…
i’m also…
paying you???
and trading hours??
while i can’t even do homework??
+ your hours keep
getting smaller??

okie dokie, queen. 👑

but,
nah babe.
the only thing contagious
is your intentional inconsistency.

she knew—
sunday was a dv-related gun range cert.
she was told:
show up by 7:30.
(didn’t arrive on time)
because i gotta leave by 8.
talked to me while i panic
to getting ready in ~10 minutes.
range? over a fucking hour away.
she mentions casually as
i’m walking out the door,
fucking late
—can you be back “early afternoon?”
yo, what????
i mean i’ll try??? and i did.
stakes? legal. safety. survivor. court-recognized.

baby girl—
this wasn’t just “babysitting.”
this was don’t fuck this up level crucial.

but guess what?
she claimed—
she thought i would “be back by noon”
meaning ~2 hours at the range
+ 2 hours of driving,
lmfao.

despite:
✨ never being told that
✨ having seen firsthand how long a range day is
✨ being fully briefed on the course, the dv context, the court case, all of it

then
texted repeatedly
knowing it was mid-
qualifying fucking round.
final hour.
the actual make-or-break part of the day.
and if i had seen those texts?
yo,
i might’ve failed.
i definitely would have left;
after two days—
15 hours of this course down
in one weekend—
35 fucking minutes early.
an hour away.

so…
you accepted a paid role during midterms
🚩 canceled on the actual day of the class; so i couldn’t secure backup
🚩 then when she finally showed up,
🚩 she showed up ~15 minutes late so i was therefore…late to class.
which…made everyone in class wait, for me…
including a disabled student who attended with a driver.
🚩 so i offered student a ride back.
🚩 but, paid babysitter then rushed me
—over an arbitrary “i have to be back at 2 not 3”
🚩 that 35 minutes of pressure forced me to:

✱ keep the guy with you longer
✱ bring him closer to your home
✱ bypass your own already raised internal alarms
✱ and now you’re dealing with a situation you never wanted

and what was the actual reason?
fucking baking.

yo.
that’s not caregiving.
that’s fucking chaos posing as community.

babe.

i said i’d try to be back by 2ish.
at your last minute request—
updated via text multiple times,
explaining i was in
the fucking qualifying round—
and couldn’t leave early.
got back at 2:34pm.
and…
you’re getting paid?
bro,
are you ok???

the excuse?

“had to get stuff done at the kitchen.”
for her…self-scheduled self-employed gig.
this girl was being paid
for the whole day
and risked the whole plan
over a fucking croissant.

→ net result?
aka the real cost:

girlie nearly tanked
a thousand-dollar cert
a survivor’s legal safety strategy
and made me scramble again
because—
she couldn’t hold it down for 35 extra minutes???

babe,
i made a high-stakes,
high-cost safety investment
in my own survival (the course)
i was forced to reroute that plan
because i could not find child care—
and then,
when i finally secure it,
her plans still took priority over mine.
this isn’t just annoying—
this is how unsafe dynamics get seeded.
not because i’m reckless—
but because someone else’s unreliability
backed me into a fucking corner.

babe,
this wasn’t miscommunication.
this was fucking sabotage.
masked as mindfulness.
wrapped in gluten-free fucking feminism.

girlie liked the look
of helping a domestic violence survivor
until the survivor started…
winning?

ok. nah.

this version of me??

i just…
🧍🏼‍♀️cut. her. off.

because nah,
i don’t owe patience
to people who choose to endanger me
and my fucking child.

congratulations. you married a fucking junkie. 🔥🔥🔥

title: congratulations. you married a fucking junkie.
subtitle: not a husband. just a freight train of fucking lies with a dick
and “a person with a compulsive habit or obsessive dependency on…something.”

✨🚩✨

(a totally likely theory)

—

bro.

✨🐀✨

you ever be so
catastrophically trusting
you accidentally bankroll a coke problem
with student loan money
while he “builds his book of business”
out of white lines off mirrors
at some bitch’s fucking apartment?

🚓🚨🏃💨

this is the highest tier
of mediocre-dude audacity
i’ve ever seen on fucking record.

🔥🤬✋✨

like yeah babe
✦ defrauded my credit card,
✦ wreck my car,
✦ take my pregnant ass—
✦ from standing
✦ straight to the fucking floor,
✦ head first into the wood—
while your coworkers laughed—
over
and over
and over—
but god forbid you miss
a goddamn fucking bump.

✨🔥🧂🔥✨

every nice thing
he said
now scans as
fucking fraud with emojis.

🧟‍♂️ “i love you” = i love your banking & routing numbers.
🧟‍♂️ “we’re a team” = hand me the keys to your car and shut up.
🧟‍♂️ “going to the gym” = i’m funding the white-nostril fucking olympics.

🔥🔥🔥

nah.
i didn’t marry a man.
i married a fucking chump✨
full of little bitch-ass excuses
and a jaw that clicked
and a body
in fucking decay.

🔥🔥🔥🥯💫

homie,
got progressively
less hot.
and be serious
i lived through WAY
more shit than you
by the time i was fucking six—
so shut the fuck up.
a true lil wife-punching bitch.

weak.
fucking pathetic. 💫

🤡🍿💍🐍🎈✨

my dude—
would look me dead in the eye,
WHITE SHIT still
on his fuckin nose,
like “babe i’m just tired.”
tired??
you’ve been up
for two full fucking days
sniffing fucking drywall
in some troll’s downtown spot—
who’s got a coke tray,
a fucking iPad,
and a goddamn copy of
'you are a badass' on the nightstand.
holy shit.
shut the fuck up.

👉🤡🔌✨

this man
wasn’t building a career.
he was building a pipeline.
these bitches for sure—
kept it professional,
but babe,
the business
wasn’t fucking insurance policies.

🤯💥😵‍💫🔥

because even
when i tried to
disclose the violence
to another professional
suposidly uninvolved??
yo,
that bitch ALSO
defrauded me
three separate fucking times???
after mocking me for your close personal
relationship to my financial representative??

girl, what????

🙃🐍✨

homie—
🎤 🤡✨ this is not
“a rogue” fucking problem,
it’s a fucking fraternity,
that almost got me killed.
mid-marriage
mid-pregnancy.
post-inducement—
no
fucking
mercy.

because
nah.
this ain’t insurance—
something else was
running back and forth,
and it wasn’t
fucking client cold calls.
LMFAO.

😑🪦

whole time?
i’m sitting at home
with a screwdriver in one hand
and a fuckin bank app in the other
wondering why he’s sending
the last fucking cash in
venmo payments
days before my kid’s birth—
from my fucking bank account
because “he just owed someone money”
after he already bankrupted our ass??
but that someone—?
yep.
lmfao
what a fucking idiot.

🤡💥👀👤

so guess what?
it went up his nose
right before
he bounced my skull off the hardwood
like it owed him fucking cash
for his next 7-Eleven run.

✨🐀✨

nah.
this wasn’t love.
this was a fucking
logistics operation.
and i was the
unpaid cash-register,
the bitch who got
a hundred prescription pills stolen
mid-pregnancy—
while he shows up one fucking place.
who didn’t realize
she married a fraudulent little bitch
with army sob story
and a coke connect
with a goddamn crush.

✨💩✨

yo.

bro was out here
posing like
he had deals to close,
but all he closed
was bathroom doors
and my fucking checking account.

✨🤝✨🤗🔪✨💰

you think he didn’t cheat?
my dude would
bang literally anything
ANYTHING
on blow.
based on the fucking record.
and every
fucking relationship
he ever fucking had.
so, real question?
how fucking many??
on that much yayo???
personality-changing-amounts
of fucking yay??????
but idk man—
he was BUSY
crawling through every
fucking lie he ever told me
like a raccoon in a trash can
high out his fuckin mind.

✨💀🔥✨

i’d be googling
“how to help your partner with executive dysfunction”
while he was googling
“does coke go bad in a hydro flask.”

✨🤩❄️💊🤡

and don’t
get me started on the “career”.
that shit wasn’t a job.
that was a fuckboy habitat.
i got sponsored
into signing legal docs
with a fucking brain bruise
while my “rep” was sending him CASH
for reasons that are now
clearly LIES— ✨🐀✨
and texting him how cute my baby was???
wild.

fucking barf.
absolutely psychotic
professional behavior.

✨💩🤥🤢🗑️✨

and y’all got the fuckin nerve
to call this “on-channel”?

yeah,
my marriage was fucking hijacked.
by widespread fraud
and an apparent yayo pipeline—
while you took my financials
and then claimed

“who the fuck are you”

✨🤥💊❄️😦

L
O
L

🔥

no.
this was felony-adjacent
financial drain with stimulant side quests.
miss me with the bullshit cute buzzwords.

so here’s the part
for all you background bitches
who “partied” with him
while i was home
folding fucking baby onesies
and filing restraining orders:

🔥 you’re not hot.
🔥 you’re not chill.
🔥 you’re just fucking trash.

🤮🚽

permanently.
and with fuckin prejudice.

🕯️🖕🏻

the only good thing that came out of all that straight evil shit 👶🏼👱🏼‍♀️🐕💖✨

single motherhood, sponsored by vengeance and zero fucking sleep
subtitle: she calls me mommy and she cleans when i clean bro i’m literally gonna cry

—

🍼👑

it’s insane
how much shit i lived through
just to get handed
the coolest fucking tiny human on the planet
in a diaper
with a sippy cup
and the audacity of a born fucking icon.

💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥✨

like
i think about the wreckage
the actual fucking wreckage—
the credit fraud,
the fucking blackouts,
the dude doing office roleplay
while building a cocaine altar
in someone else’s apartment—
and i’d still do it again
if it meant i’d get her.

🫧🕊️🩵🪞✨

not because it was okay.
it wasn’t.
it was fucking violent.
intentional.
goddamn disgusting.
and so many people
didn’t give a single fuck
that i was getting my head bashed in real time.
pregnant.
absolutely alone.
lovebombed.
discarded.
funding the collapse
from my own fucking bank account.

but somehow
out of that
came this tiny perfect girl
who stomps around in her
tiny-ass pink cowgirl boots
talking shit into a play phone
with a mop in one hand
and a baby doll on her hip
like she pays the fucking bills.

✨🦄🩷

every morning
she jumps on my head.
every night she curls into me
me. the baby. and sammi the dog.
like we’re her whole goddamn world.
because we are.

🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹

i didn’t just survive.
i leveled the fuck up.
into mother.
into legend.
into the type of baddie who literally
birthed her own best friend.

👶🏼👱🏼‍♀️✨

and she?
is fucking unhinged.
in the best possible way.

she’s funny.
she’s mean.
she’s genius-level dramatic.
loves blocks.
loves books.
huge fan of race cars,
fucking goddamn obsessed with sammi dog,
cleaning products, (aka water)
and unsolicited FaceTime calls.

💫👶🏼🐕💖

like bro,
this girl cleans when i clean.
not fake help.
real-ass cleaning.
paper towels, rags, mini-mop,
i shit you not—
like she’s the foreman
of our little single-mom construction site.
she works union.

and somehow, with no lessons,
she knew how to love her baby dolls.
she feeds them,
bro,
puts them to bed,
probably better
than her own fucking dad
could manage on his best day.

💥

and don’t get it contorted:
i tried.
i really fucking tried
to like that man.
to help him.
to support him.
i gave him every tool
to be a fucking father
and a man
and a human being
and instead
he chose—
violence, drugs, and employment scams.

🕊️✨

but
even with all of that,
i can tell my daughter
with no shame,
with no spin,
that i did everything to build something good.
i tried to make him better
and he chose worse.

💥

and now?
he’s out there losing hair
and i’m out here building a family
with a toddler, a dog, and…
hopefully—
a degree in progress.

just me,
my little cleaning boss
with six teeth,
a plastic vacuum,
and a soul made of fucking fire.

✨

we don’t need a happy ending.
we are one.
spite-powered,
caffeine-fueled,
and extremely well mopped.

✳ tiny baddie girl club ✳

👶🏼👱🏼‍♀️🐕💖✨

😈❄️🚪 “just stopping by to see the baby”

(or: why are you at my door during a crash + comedown?)

✨

let’s walk it back.
i just had a fucking baby.
i’m fresh-cut from surgery,
bleeding,
barely standing.
he just totaled my car
and is “stuck,”
twitchy,
broke as fuck,
and absolutely not employed.
and then—ding dong bitch.
the office goblin & co.
pops up at my house
like it’s a fucking christening.

✨😈❄️🚪

“i just wanted to see the newborn 🥺”

oh yeah?
where’s the wipes, bitch?

no gift.
no food.

✨❄️…

this bitch is
“just checking in”???
bro—

just her,
sitting there,
all awkward
while my life is in flames
and he’s out here using my gas to go AWOL???

ok.
right.
with what plan, exactly?
flowers? 😈
a casserole? 😈
a client service checklist? 😈
nah—she ain’t got shit. 😈

…or was it…
a care package with a key-shaped surprise?

✨❄️

…

babe.
🚫 this is a blow free zone. 🚫🔑

but…
still?

you’re at my door
post-wreck,
post-vanish,
post-a ~grand+ of moving unexplained money????
post-five-a.m. errands??
post-your constant proximity to the fucking crash out???
that smell like cocaine and lying—
and now,
that you officially said,
you don’t fucking know me like that,
in god damn court
i’m supposed to believe

this is a…baby visit?

girl, you
didn’t bring diapers.
you brought
creepy-ass proximity.
…and proximity…
is how fucking pipelines work.

because…
here’s what else was happening:

✱ he’s “retained” but never there. 🚫
✱ my accounts are over-drafted; his calendar is empty. 🚫
✱ he’s jaw-clenched and disappears for 90 minutes to “grab something,” 🚫
✱ comes back with nothing but vibes. 🚫
✱ your name’s on the paperwork, on my medical intake, and somehow also on my fucking couch— 🚫

…right when the crash dust settles??

…when he’s stranded…without a vehicle…to disappear in???

✨DAMN GLAD I GOT A fucking PHOTO.✨

so yeah,
i stood there,
stitches tight,
fucking baby in my arms,

and thought:
✨why the fuck are you at my home✨
during a car-crash + comedown window,
asking dumbass questions
through that
fake fucking ass smile??

and i really thought,
like nah—
she can’t be
straight fucking evil.
she wouldn’t be doing—
straight illegal shit??? ✨
signing on to my shit??? ✨
nah.
no fucking way.
that would be fucking crazy.

…too stupid.

so i gave you a chance.
trusted you.

but now????

let me be straight up with you—
are you here to

“meet the baby,”

or

to make sure
the fucking delivery
got where the fuck it needed to go?

💊🔑✨❄️🧟‍♂️

uh…oh…

🗣️ did you come into my home—
🗣️ to run a fucking drop???

🗣️ straight up hand-delivered
🗣️ to my goddamn tweaking-ass husband?

lmfao
no.

✨❄️

let me find that out.

✨❄️

you’re
not
this
fucking
dumb.

✨❄️

because seriously,
prior to that?
he can’t seem…
to stay the fuck
out of “your orbit”
for five fucking seconds,
without…

✨VIOLENTLY CRASHING THE FUCK OUT.❄️

⚠️ across multiple records and jurisdictions ⚠️

and shit,
because the math is ugly:

✱ access + timing + secrecy = not a coincidence.

and if you
weren’t running it?
(lol shut up)
you were
the goddamn cover
for the fuck whoever was.

either way,
bitch, that wasn’t
“aww, newborn!”

nah.
no way.
babe,
you’re not human like that.
you’re a fucking bridge troll.

💊🧟‍♂️

and …🩸let me find out🩸
what the fuck
that visit really was.