sir; i’m not chasing clout, i’m ✨underfunded✨

the “blowhorn”
that was actually
survival mode
instead of
for real like…
starving.

—

oh,
i went public???
i just want attention?

i don’t respect the system?

like yeah dude
that’s what happens
when your husband
nukes the bank account,
ghosts the fucking bills,
and leaves you
with a newborn,
unstable housing,
a dog,
and a stack of invoices

and then
y’all wanna act
confused when i,
a broke single mom,
get loud enough
for someone to hear me
over the overdraft fees

and yeah—
sorry i’m also
funny as hell.
my bad for
having a personality
that didn’t get
murdered by the trauma.

let’s be honest
i saw more shit before age ten
than most grown men
manage before thirty-five.
you think that
doesn’t shape the way i talk?
of course i sound like
a mob wife
who’s seen some shit.
i have.

—

listen:

i had to crowdsource
$500 just to file the case
and another
$500 for ink,
paper,
postage,
and the stupid-ass printer
that actually hates me

….that’s $1,000 just to ✨EXIST✨ in court

(i have like a rolling $42)

and y’all,
not even fight—
just show up
without being tackled
by the clerk
for unpaid fees

i don’t respect the system???

brother.

i sacrificed
my personal
grocery budget
✨for a month✨
to afford…one textbook.

yes.
facts.

here’s the plottwist
nobody expects:
💕 i’m honest.
💕 i’m good.
💕 i’m fucking ethical.
i’m the one
who still pays the bills,
still raises the kid,
still tells the truth
even when
the truth makes
everyone else
fucking twitch.

…

but yeah bro.
we’re on food stamps
which were “lost in the mail”
multiple months in a row
his baby is now on medicaid;
which means??

…

we’re living off goodwill.
we’re living off charity.
we’re living off—
whatever i can
scrape together
while cleaning toilets + in grad school +
a baby
under five
with zero child support…

so
i’m sitting here
negative-negative
like,
cleaning houses professionally
with a toddler
eating goldfish on the floor
behind me
the hustle is not aesthetic
it is fucking
federal-poverty-line.

my guy,
if i didn’t laugh
i’d be screaming,
and if i didn’t curse
i’d be fucking crying.

and then
people act like
i “went public” for drama???
nah.
sorry, babe,
the drama is unpaid filing fees
the drama is printer ink
the drama is me at the UPS counter
praying my card doesn’t
literally decline
in front of a line of strangers
who definitely think
i’m running a pyramid scheme

i didn’t blowhorn
bro.
i had to—
i crowdsourced survival
because silence
doesn’t cover court costs
and whispering
doesn’t buy external hard drives.

you didn’t leave me choices
you left me bills.

and listen,
my only option was—
“you’re broke, bitch, get fucked or go ask the internet.”

…

if my tone
and my public survival
bothers anyone,
that’s a them problem—
because
the facts are still the facts,
and they hit harder
than any f-bomb i’ve ever dropped.

…

short answer
with correct grammar:

homie.
i went public
because i literally
could not afford
the mandatory filing
and printing costs
without community support.
i disclosed only
my own information,
claims already in the file,
redacted everything sensitive,
and acted out of financial necessity—
not attention-seeking.

and yes i curse.
but you would be
a little sassy too—
if it happened to you.

public assistance made the case possible.

vocabulary quiz for people who evaluate my sanity (open-book, still failed) 📝💀

subtitle: are we fr right now or am i in a ✨group hallucination✨

or…
how to feign confusion 101;

like,
am i tripping???????
ok so here’s
the glossary no one asked for…

y’all, these are
the “coded-terms”???????

—

let’s run through—

✦ 🧃 “off-channel activity”

noun
definition:
any communication about client business
outside your firm’s approved system.
texting. dms. carrier pigeon. whatever.

you:

“we don’t understand what this phrase means ☹️”

also you:

✨ wrote compliance memos about it
✨ sent reps to trainings on it
✨ got sued by the SEC for doing it
✨ used this exact term in public filings

so.
like.
did y’all forget?

🧠 level of difficulty: it’s in your job description.
🫣 vibes: “we plead the fifth on having internet access.”

—

✦ 🤰🏼 “peri-partum signatures”

adj + noun combo
definition:
when you send a woman paperwork to sign
while she’s actively recovering from childbirth.

you read this and went,

“what could this possibly mean???”

my brother in christ.
that is the OB word.
from the OB packet.
at the OB hospital.
that you collected records from.

like. is no one in the office… aware that childbirth is a medical event?

📆 what it meant: “you sent paperwork while i was still wearing mesh underwear.”
🔎 what you could’ve done: literally ask a nurse. or open any Mayo Clinic page.

—

✦ 💊 “missing medication counts”

noun
definition:
when pills go missing. like… poof. gone.
we’re talking math. subtraction. very advanced.

i said:

“medication went missing.”

you said:

“but what does that mean 😵‍💫”

are… are y’all good?

did your entire legal education
just collapse under the weight of basic arithmetic?

this is not a riddle. this is:

1. count pills ✨

2. notice there are fewer ✨

3. consider whether someone snorted them mid-client pitch ✨

🧮 what it is: observable loss
🪞 what it reflects: y’all really said “she’s using numbers??”

—

✦ 📊 “broker-dealer footprints”

noun
definition:
the little trail of regulatory crumbs
you leave when you walk like a broker-dealer,
quack like a broker-dealer,
and then try to say you’re just vibes and insurance.

you said:

“we don’t know what this means”

okay but y’all are… literally a broker-dealer.
✨ you pitched me accounts.
✨ you held my financial info.
✨ you accepted a rollover.
✨ you assigned a registered rep.

so if this is confusing,
the only question is
who the hell do you think you are???
and also—who did your FINRA audit?

👣 meaning: the paper trail that says “this is a BD firm.”
📚 where to look: your own damn onboarding packet.

—

✦ 🧱 “cementing the advisor channel”

verb phrase
definition:
locking in the rep. assigning control.
no take-backs, no client access, no actual ethics.

✨ you used this term.
✨ you.

i didn’t invent this.
i didn’t write it on a post-it and staple it to my forehead.
this is your internal vocabulary.

and now suddenly it’s too complex to parse?
like oh no, the metaphor got too spicy??

👷‍♂️ what it meant: you locked in a rep, gave them control, and left me out.
📓 where to find it: your sales training slides. the ones with bullet points.

—

✦ 🕵️ “post-recusal surveillance”

noun
definition:
when someone is removed from your case for conflict
but still watches your content like a bored ex on private.

you:

“we don’t understand this phrasing”

also you:

✨ recused goblin
✨ then let her monitor my private content with removal notice
✨ then referenced it indirectly in conduct

i mean…
what part is throwing you off?
“post”? “recusal”? or the part where
she kept lurking after you said she was off my file?

sir, we directly spoke of this—
human-to-human in a meeting.

but ok.

🪩 translation: stalking… but with HR paperwork attached.

—

✦ ⚠️ “conflicted channels”

noun
definition:
a rep or advisor who has a personal/financial conflict
of interest that would make a compliance officer scream.

you said:

“this seems ambiguous”

okay. let’s play a game.
if the advisor:

✨ sent money to my husband
✨ had access to my medical info
✨ deleted instagram messages with me during a complaint hold

…

is that person…
a) neutral
b) ethically sound
c) conflicted

ding ding ding.
see? you do know the answer.

—

✦ 📉 “ledger and damages narrative”

noun
definition:
a list of what i paid, what y’all took, and how you f*cked around and found out.

you said:

“we’re unclear on this”

ok but like.
you’ve filed those.
in court.
for clients.

a ledger is a list.
a damages narrative is what each line item represents.

this isn’t a puzzle.
this is a chart.
like excel. but with consequences.

📉 what it is: itemized harm
🤦‍♀️ what you’re pretending it is: a secret language invented by me and lexisnexis

—

✦ 🫥 “silent control shifts”

noun
definition:
when you change who owns,
controls,
or can access a policy
without telling the person still funding it.

you:

“this is vague”

also you:

✨ changed ownership
✨ removed me as beneficiary
✨ blocked portal access
✨ never said a word

so like… was it not silent enough??
or too silent for you to remember doing it?

📬 what it means: changing control without telling the person still paying
💡 what it looks like: fraud. it looks like fraud.

—

✦ 🚑 “documented stimulant crashes”

noun
definition:
when someone spirals off adderall/coke and there’s proof.
screenshots. chaos locations. can’t drive. crash-and-burn energy.

you said:

“we don’t know what that means 🥺”

my guy.
you’ve got:

✨ the missing pills
✨ the chaos texts
✨ the timeline of him spiraling while working for your firm

and you don’t know what a stimulant crash looks like??
are you sure you even read the complaint??

🧾 what it means: he crashed. i documented it. you pretended not to notice.

—

✦ 🚫 “dv-protected person”

noun
definition:
someone with a court-issued protection order due to domestic violence.

you said:

“unclear phrasing”

courts and dv guides literally
call the survivor the “protected party”
or “protected person” under a protection order.

🛡 translation: i’m literally protected by
two court orders. y’all rerouted control anyway.

—

✦ 🩺 “MHQ restarts”

noun
definition:
when you fumble the application process
and make the client redo the Medical History Questionnaire
because you ghosted the first one.

…

you’re confused by MHQ
which stands for…
Medical History Questionnaire
which is what you made me fill out.
twice.

this is your own form.
your own acronym.
from your own pipeline.

but now it’s “unrecognizable”?
ok. unplug the fax machine and try again.

—

✦ 🪖 “pitches for transferring of the GI Bill”

noun
definition:
the thing your rep said when they tried to use military benefits
as bait to get me to bankroll your broke-ass recruit.

you said:

“we don’t understand what this refers to”

also you:

told me i could use your new recruits GI Bill for law school
said this job would “secure that future”
looped me into the pitch

so again.
i didn’t make that up.
you said that. out loud. to me.
you pitched it. i just… remembered.

🎖 what it means: a sales pitch built on my husband’s military status
😵 what it reveals: y’all were recruiting with federal benefits like it was a loyalty program

—

🧠 closing remarks

i just need to ask—
genuinely,
sincerely,
baby law-student-to-counselor—

what is going on here?????

because i used your firm’s own language
regulator-defined terms
and literal medical acronyms from your own files

and y’all acted like i submitted the enigma code.

so now it’s saturday
and instead of making
fucking flashcards for constitutional law,
i’m sitting here defining terms you created
like i’m the TA in a continuing education course
none of you passed.

i’m not mad.
i’m just deeply, profoundly, spiritually confused.

🖤

or;

burn book: glossary edition
aka: the weekend i spent explaining your own job to you, for free

i don’t have an anger problem, i have a dialect.📍🫠🤌🏻💗

aka: the new jersey department of profanity made me like this.

—

lol.

homie,
let’s get one thing straight:
my mouth isn’t a crime scene.
it’s a
geographical fucking inevitability.

🗺️📍

—

also.
apparently—according to science™,
people who swear a lot are:

💀 smarter
💀 more honest
💀 more emotionally resilient
💀 better at pain tolerance
💀 less full of shit

this is nature vs nurture
vs
get the fuck outta my face.

the f-bomb is my mother tongue

😌🌈✨💕

yo. truthfully.
listen—

i’m from new jersey, bitch.
the homeland of turnpike theology,
where the state flower is road rage
and the state bird is a middle finger in traffic.

—

nah.
you don’t understand…

multiple studies— 🥹
like, actual scientists
with clipboards and shit—
have confirmed
what we knew in the womb:
🏆 jersey individuals
curse more than nearly
everyone else in the fucking country.
🥇 some studies say #1.
others say
“jesus christ wtf is wrong with these people.”
jersey city apparently
averages so many daily curse words
they might as well count it
as a second fucking language.

aye. 🍝🤌🏼

—

so…i am statistically incapable of shutting the fuck up.

babe!!!
✨ it’s genetics.
✨ it’s geography.
✨ it’s the fucking turnpike.
✨ it’s the population density.
✨ it’s the collective generational frustration
of being between philly and new york with none of the perks.

✨🏆

honey,
this is nature and nurture in full feral collaboration.

but
let’s get even realer,
since y’all love to pretend
tone is the real crime:

truthfully—

let’s talk child abuse. 👑✨🙌

i grew up with a dad
who talked like a truck driver
possessed by a fucking demon
from exit 7.
my first memories?
him cursing us tf out.
calling a child a fucking wench
in front of grown men
who said nothing.
that’s the soundtrack i was raised on:
✨ trauma.
✨ rage.
✨ slammed fucking doors.
the kind of verbal shrapnel
that sticks in your ribs
for fucking decades.

☠️🤘🏼

—

and…guess what??
i still didn’t become him.

i didn’t become cruel.
i didn’t become abusive.
i didn’t become the actual fucking villain.

🥇🐐✨

nah.

his violence made me empathetic.
his insanity made me honest.
his brutality made me believe survivors.
his chaos carved out a real soul in me —
one that feels everything,
refuses to cheat,
refuses to fucking break.

❤️‍🔥🔥

but it also
made me curse
like i’ve got a holy union
with the f-word.
linguistic generational trauma, baby.
a dialect forged by fucking chaos
but wielded with compassion.

my childhood was basically
a boot camp in verbal warfare.
i grew up bilingual:
english and “go fuck yourself.”

and instead
of making me cruel
it made me mad empathetic
AND
mad fucking fluent.

…

so when these dusty bitches
clutch their iPhones
about my profanity
like that’s the moral crisis here…

nah.
because you know what my cursing isn’t?

❌ misconduct
❌ malice
❌ ill intent
❌ defamation
❌ a threat
❌ a violation
❌ or whatever fake sin you’re inventing to avoid the facts

🔥🔥🔥

it’s just truth.
raw.
unfiltered.
spoken in the only vocabulary
i was ever fucking taught
that didn’t lie to me.

…

call it 🔥 rebellion.
call it 🔥 science.
call it 🔥 jersey-ese.
call it 🔥 trauma alchemy.
call it 🔥 a hereditary spell
passed down from generations
of loudmouth italians
standing in the driveway at 11pm.

✨🇮🇹🍕✨

but don’t you fucking dare call it wrongdoing.

it’s not a crime to curse.
it’s a crime to survive hell
and come out
✨this genuine,
✨ this loving,
✨ this real
while speaking in the tongue of my people:

fuck.
a noun,
a verb,
an adjective,
an entire fucking emotional spectrum.

🔥🔥🔥

—

to recap:

i curse because:

⭐ i’m from new jersey
⭐ i’m educated
⭐ i survived shit i shouldn’t have
⭐ i feel deeply
⭐ i tell the truth
⭐ i refuse to shrink
⭐ profanity is my silent scream
⭐ and honestly?
the english language without “fuck” is just vibes and disappointment.

next question.

the playbook: low-key abusive & highly invasive. 🙏📖😌🕊️

(survivor edition: when they don’t want to fight on the facts, so they gaslight your tone instead)

omg.
so—
let’s be
really
serious,
for a goddamn second.

i’m gonna say this once,
in english,
jersey,
and whatever fucking dialect
exists between
“i survived” and
“i’m not shutting the fuck up”:

you cannot criminalize my fucking tone. ✨🕊️

…

that’s the whole thesis.
the whole entry.
the whole goddamn fight.

listen.
i’m not the threat in this story.
i’m the unwilling narrator
of the shit that already happened.
and in every line,
i’m telling
the ugly,
unfortunate fucking truth—

no.
i didn’t pick this role.
i didn’t volunteer for the plot twist.
i just survived long enough to describe it.

because what i’m not doing?

i’m not lying—
i’m not embellishing.
i’m not dramatizing.
i’m just telling the truth in
the only language
fucking trauma leaves behind.

does it sound brutal?

ok but…
you do realize,

i lived the actual violence.
not metaphorical.
not poetic.
literal.
terrible.
skull crushing,
that ”i’m definitely going to die.”
type of violence.

i lived the aftermath.
the fallout nobody wants to talk about.
the panic.
the debt.
the days where
i was alive but
barely fucking functional.

because it’s real:
i lived the paperwork hell.
the ER visits.
the bruises
that didn’t match any
“he said / she said” bullshit.
the police reports.
the restraining orders.
i lived the financial fucking crater, too.

saying that out loud?

none of this makes me dangerous.
none of this makes me unstable.
none of this makes me the villain.

it just makes me
the actual witness
who didn’t die.

and if i curse
while writing about it?
congrats,
that’s called being a human being,
not misconduct.

—

✦ exhibit a: tone-policing is the abused girl gag order

this is how it goes every time:

i talk about what happened to me →
someone with no rebuttal to the actual events →
tries to reprimand me for sounding “angry.”

no shit i’m angry.
i got strangled pregnant and bankrupt while everyone pretended that was normal.
and now suddenly the scandal is…
my vocabulary?

“she used the f-word!”
yeah, babe, you know what else happened?
actual fucking trauma.
i’m not gonna narrate that
like a linkedin webinar.

—

✦ exhibit b: when they can’t fight the facts, they fight the vibe

this is the part
that is the most weaponized:

nobody says “that didn’t happen.”
nobody says “that’s not what the documents show.”
nobody says “her timeline is wrong.”

nah.
nope.
they say:
“she’s harsh.”
“she’s vulgar.”
“she curses.”
“she sounds emotional.”

wow thank you for the literary critique, guys.
meanwhile the documented shit
i survived
is right there in filings,
police reports,
medical records,
and emails.

but you know…
let’s cry about a trauma blog post.

—

✦ exhibit c: trauma writing is not misconduct

i’m writing about my own life.
my own experiences.
my own emotions.
my own lived fucking pain.

i’m not threatening anybody.
i’m not telling anyone to go do anything.
i’m not stalking.
i’m not harassing.

i have
zero idea—
what any of y’all
are over there actually doing.
(but you are glued to my every move)

i’m literally just…
describing what happened to me.
in my own words.
with my own nj accent.
with my own real anger.
with my own freedom of speech.

if you get offended
by how i phrase my survival?
while i’m fighting for my life???
then maybe don’t read
a dv survivor’s burn book.
easy fix.

—

✦ exhibit d: my tone is not your jurisdiction

just because
i survived in
four fucking languages—
rage,
grief,
sarcasm,
and dark fucking humor—
doesn’t make
my testimony any less valid.

my tone is not evidence of wrongdoing.
my tone is evidence that i’m not dead.

damn dude.
nobody gets to tell me “say it softer”
after the shit i’ve endured.

i talk how i talk
because i’m from new jersey
and because trauma rewired my throat
to stop begging and start naming.

you don’t get to steal my voice
just because
you’re uncomfortable with the sound.

—

✦ exhibit e: you cannot punish a survivor for having a personality

if the worst thing i’ve done
is curse while describing a documented timeline
of abuse,
abandonment,
actual fraud,
financial fallout,
and a whole insurance clown show
that left me drowning—

then i’m actually doing remarkably fucking well.

sorry i don’t
write like the PR department
of my own suffering.

sorry i don’t
sugarcoat the stuff
that almost killed me.
(no actually)

sorry i use dark humor as my fucking life raft.

tone-policing a dv survivor
is not professionalism.
it’s oppression
and it’s fucked up.

—

✦ closing statement

you can disagree with me.
you can litigate me.
you can hate my delivery.

but you cannot tell me
that surviving violence requires
a “no cursing” clause.

my tone isn’t the crime.
my tone is the evidence
that i made it out.

and nobody—
not an abuser,
not his orbit,
not their lawyers,
not a school,
not a defendant,
not a stranger—
gets to rewrite the sound of my survival.

amen.

stimulants, stalking, and someone else’s husband: the thinspo wellness era 💀🧘🏼‍♀️

like imagine
publicly chronicling
your own role in a criminal fucking conspiracy—
timestamps,
captions,
full fucking gps coordinates
practically—
for a fucking year,
then
acting brand new
the second the internet
is like
girl, WHAT?

(meanwhile)
🧷👩‍🎤🤘🔥

after you
intentionally flaunt
your dumb ass social account—
in front of his legal wife??

girl—are you fucking insane?????? 📣

—

no.

she’s really out here
like “omg people are being mean 🥺”

no, sweetheart,
they’re reading the fucking room.

like,
did you fail to realize
your dumbass is literally
playing fucking house
with someone’s actual husband
while he flat out
ghosts 👻💨
his own….baby
and it is…fucking weird.

duh???

and straight desperate bitch behavior.

🖤🤘🔥

omg.
you were not in love,
you were mid-fucking episode. 💊

and congrats,
you finally
discovered the delete button
after half a million views
and
a collective internet

“girl, are you okay?”

nah. 💋🫶🥹
she really
deleted the alcohol pics
like she didn’t publicly
post that shit…
like omg..

🤡💭 ”look at my family…”

lol
not the crimes, though.
not the open violation of a restraining order.

not the
“look at me, i’m harboring a felon with my young children” fucking scrapbook she’s been carefully curating…for a full fucking year.

nah.
just the snapshots.

🤡🤸💥

….

like damn, the priorities!
not the: 😵🏳️

“hey, do you think i should stop committing misdemeanors on my main?”

—

lol, nah.
just—

😮...💭 “maybe people won’t think
i’m an alcoholic if i crop out the red solo cup 
and delete the pics drinking with the dude
who’s out on bond
and has mandated
fucking court-ordered sobriety.”

…

(hold up)

hey hubby??? 🙃
hi. so—
this bitch is truly a fucking genius.

🤯🧱

congrats bro. 💫

nah.
i can’t tell
if you’re
seriously
this fucking dense.

👩‍🎤🖤️🕸️… (obviously it’s a yes)

—

but yeah—
shit.

so…
i saw the old pics.

lol.
damn. 😦…

so…those throwbacks?
honestly??
now
everything makes
perfect fucking sense.

girl. 🥹🫂💗

shit must have been…rough.
huh?

…

yeah
like suddenly she’s
“so tiny 🥺✨”

uh oh.

and…blonde?? 👭🏼

and look…
the entire internet’s like
“nah babe that’s not pilates,
that’s pure colombian fucking cardio.”

😳👉👈

…oh
shit.

🥀

—

truly
it’s wild
when you finally see
the before pics
and your brain goes—omg.
lol. yep.
that shit checks.
the insecure origin story.

…yikes. 🖤

—

like the math mathing:
no gym tags.
no yoga mats…
definitely no smoothie bowls.
nah.
just vodka,
whiskey on the dance floor,
fucking senior citizen raves,
all the vibes, 💖🥰💞
and a septum doing heavy labor.

…while
she plants
her whole
goddamn sweaty ass
on my husband’s shoulders
looking fucking…
cooked?????

🤭😭…for that pic????

noooooo.
fucking wow.

like, who’s mom is this?????
please,
come get her.
and bro,
i am fucking sorry.

can not imagine.

…🫣 (it’s too fucking tragic)

—

but really,
babe.
the epic levels of
familial,
fucking generational—
humiliation??

yo.
this man
brought
full fucking disgrace
upon all of us.
put that shit
on the internet
so even our
goddamn grandkids
will be fucking embarrassed.

brilliant bro.

woof.
some dawg-level shit.

💀🤘

—

babe.
and the desperation?
fucking omnipresent.
you can smell it
through the social grid.
that “if i keep
partying hard enough
maybe 🥺🥺
i’ll stay relevant
to a cokehead” energy.

girl.
you are like forty.

you good???

🤡 🚩

and seemingly on your third?!
fraudulent
fucking
fill in husband???

shit.

that kind of hunger
makes people
mistake pathetic pick-me chaos
for a fucking personality.

—

because yeah—
after seeing that????
now 💡
i really get it.

she didn’t steal
literally anyone’s man.
(like ever)
girly sponsored a full on relapse.
she was like,
so excited about it too.
sweetie.
she can join the fucking club.

🙃

community service,
honestly.

✨god bless✨

bonus level unlocked: the hoa chose violence 🏡💀

aka: you accidentally backed your HOA into a legal fight

—

i swear
i didn’t even full energy
beef with this crew.

🤝📜💸

i tried to be like,
yo—
can we be fucking reasonable?

lmfao,
and then like—
i just…
existed.

but bro.
imagine just
trying to survive domestic violence,
+ a deadbeat who refuses to pay
any fucking support—
raise a baby,
go to law school,
literally just…
live
in fucking peace—
but nah.

of course not.

the homeowners’ association
looks at all that and goes:

💀

“hmm. what if we committed a light civil rights violation for fun?”

yo.
why though??

🤔

like. babes.
i’m literally
the
only
fucking
person
here
who owns a law textbook,
the resolve to tell you 🚨 “oh hell the fuck nah,”
and multiple trauma diagnoses
and fucking somehow
y’all ended up
in a legal disagreement with me…
over a parking sign???
over a baby gate??
girl.
that’s a fucking talent.

that’s ✨villain origin arc✨ material.

🏛️🕊️⚖️

straight up.
i didn’t even
mean to get the homies sued.
i was just
trying to put up
a safety gate
and ✨mind my fucking business✨

but nope, shit
next thing you know,
karen from unit downstairs
is like “we read your private emails!”
and i’m like
ok nsa granny lite —
enjoy the fair housing complaint,
the fuck?????

now
the hoa board’s
probably
in their email chain like
“who tf told her about civil rights law???”
…
“we usually just send them bullshit legal threats from our terrifying HOA law firm.”

babe.

i just googled that shit,
because it felt…
that
fucking
dumb.

…and sure enough,
DORA fucking agrees.

lol.

jesus christ.
super casual.

can we just…
not do illegal shit?

like…what the actual fuck is going on here??
so do we just…
bully people
because we think,
”nah—
they’ll never fight this shit.”

surprise!

hi! it’s me. 😀
i’m her!

👉✨🦄✨

like.
shit.
can someone pay me instead?
so i can…maybe,
afford textbooks???
groceries??
the fucking light bill??
or just…survive this epicly fucked era???

or maybe…just,
stop
fucking
with
me—
✨while i’m trying to goddamn survive it✨

lol.
whatever.

🏡✨ HOA: 0, sam: aiding the “find out”, after they “fucked around”. ✨🏡

✶ all the ways homie is NOT fucking punk rock ✶ 🚦🛹🎸💉💊

aka: no one trusts a man who says “i love blink” but has a domestic violence charge
every tattooed teen girl in that crowd knows exactly what a man like that is.

lmfao.

like…

that dude??
—in a mosh pit?!
bro couldn’t even handle a fucking ball pit.
homie would get knocked once
and call the cops.
tell his mommy.
ask for fucking financial restitution.

little bitch.

🛹⚡️💔

1. relies on women for housing
you ever met a punk
who needed a different woman’s couch
every fucking season?
no, you met a fucking parasite.

2. did cocaine… but made it fucking corny
punk = rebellion.
this dude? relapsing in the fucking suburbs.
while his new girl stalks his wife’s trauma blog.
it’s giving great value tom delonge
with none of the talent and all of the flop.

3. abandoned his kid but still posts “girl dad” content
pop-punk is built on daddy issues,
but the self-aware kind.
punk fights systems—not custody arrangements.

yo.
travis would
throw a fucking drumstick
at his dumbass head
for even trying to pull “girl dad” vibes
after abandoning his own daughter.
you're not angsty bro—you’re just an asshole.

4. weaponized therapy language but never healed shit
“moving on.” “healing.” “protecting my peace.”
nah bro.
you mean “dodging child support,” “beating women,” and “disassociating on live.”
you’re not protecting peace.
you are the fucking chaos.

5. thinks being unemployed is punk
nah babe.
punk is refusing to sell out,
not refusing to show up.
you didn't reject capitalism.
capitalism rejected you.

6. military flunk with imperial delusions
specifically had to be a fucking army ranger
because nothing screams “small dick energy”
and fucking sociopath
louder than
“let me join the most elite imperial death squad
so i don’t have to process fucking emotions.”

💀🎧⚡

lol.
you’d get jumped
by 3 bisexuals in vans
before you even made it
to the fucking monster energy tent.

7. calls himself “a good man” while women have restraining orders
punk owns their darkness.
this dude just rebrands his.
choked his pregnant wife
then ran and hid.

8. let his friends watch her suffer
punk is standing up for the vulnerable.
bro is who the vulnerable need protection from—
💥✨

9. he still gives a fuck about being liked
punk is not reading your ex’s blog at 3am
and sending it to your new supply.
lol

10. needs an audience to exist
punk plays loud alone.
this douchebag fucking collapses
if there’s no one watching.
every meltdown, performance art.
every relapse, another show.

11. replaced love with optics
punk doesn’t love for clout.
this man chooses vibes over vows.
foul pussy over parenting.

12. every girl he dates is a downgrade
you’re not developing—
you’re just fucking downhill.

13. never made art out of pain
punk bleeds onto the page.
he just bled into debt.
no albums.
no fucking zines.
just a burner instagram
and a thousand-yard stare.

14. coward in court. clown on camera.
never showed for his kid.
but caught every concert.
posted up with a drink in hand
while on bond for felony strangulation.
bro,
the system didn’t break you.
you were never fucking built.

15. mommy’s boy with a ritz-carlton backstory
didn’t mommy take you to the ritz
for like your 6th birthday???
because chucky cheese was too overwhelming.
lmfao.
you were raised to be
a fucking brat.

…

and that’s exactly what you are bro.

🔥 verdict:

he’s not punk.
he’s fucking posing.
he’s not rage.
he’s goddamn rot.
not fight-the-system.
just fucked by it.

lol.

every girl at warped
could beat his ass in a pit
and then light his fucking hoodie on fire.
and they would.
especially if they found out
what he did to his wife.

🥁💀🤘

your honor, i’m too sensitive for this shit 😭✨

girl.
deadass.
maybe i'm not built for this.

like…
juris doctor of vibes,
not fucking lies—
bro.

like…

maybe…
i’m gonna be a piece of shit lawyer.
or
maybe i’m not gonna graduate at all.
who
really
fucking
knows.

i know—
i ain’t a fucking liar

but…

✨ manifesting something ✨

(probably anything above a fucking b- ??)

no.
but no fr—
i've been
thinking about
this way
too much lately.
like.
tell me.
this whole game.
this whole system.
this whole shitty-ass industry
of fucking bullshitting?
while people fucking drown??

wtf?

really though—
like why even do it???

bro.

and i keep
looking the fuck around
like—
are there really ten-ish+
legal professionals
cc’d on this fucking email thread??
watching a single mom
get fucking
shredded by
procedural fuckshit
in real time
and they're just like,

“lol. anyway. reply all with a deadline :)”

like bitch.
you saw it.
you read it.
and you still filed that motion?
you really told your client

“yeah this is totally fine. we’re winning here”?

girl.

this is winning???

shit.
you’re not winning.
bro.
you’re just fucking paid.

what even is this shit???

not a legal battle.
a fucking battle of exhaustion.

and that’s
the part
that kinda kills me.
that someone can hand you a check
and suddenly
it's not your job to be ethical??
to aim towards fucking truth??
just out here filing…
fucking whatever??
like
you don’t have to sleep with it.
or answer to it.
or wonder
if you’re the stupid ass reason
some single mom
silently screams
in her kitchen
because she has to re-file
while holding
her fucking kid in one arm
and reading a dumbass motion
that says nothing
and really
just tries
to fucking erase reality.

😐👏

idk.
maybe i’m not built for it.
maybe i’ll suck at this.
maybe i already do.

because
when i’m in class
and they say
“use their background against them”
my brain translates it to
“who can lie based on bias.”

nah.
nope.

won’t do it.

and look,
i don’t think i can do that.
i don’t think i want to.
even when i “hate” people,
even when i'm angry,
i don’t want to burn anyone
just because
it fucking pays well.

fucking weak ass shit.

i wanted to
do this to protect people.
to legally fight douchebags.
to make the bastards fucking sweat.
but this system?
this industry?

it doesn’t give
a single fuck about justice.
it wants performers.
fucking liars.
goofy-ass sharks
from their privileged families.
this shit rewards
whoever can
weaponize
fucking apathy
with a straight fucking face.

and maybe that’s not me.

but baby,
i never give up.

and i can go…
for fucking ever.

👍🙂✨

oops. all facts tho— xox

babe,
the absolute
wildest part
about telling the truth?

…it stays the fucking same.

honey.
it doesn’t matter
how many people
pray i’m fucking lying
so they
don’t have to admit
they’re the side bitch
in someone else’s fucking horror story.

but yeah babe—
maybe it’s messy.
maybe you
don’t get why
i still—
tolerated a man
who
choked me out
while i was pregnant.
but honey—
that’s the thing about abuse:
you don’t always see it
fucking clearly—
while it’s happening,
especially
when
you were trained
to call goddamn chaos
“love.”

and yeah—
i really just remembered,
we were gonna have another baby.
and yes—
we had plans.
lol.
and yes—
right before he spiraled,
fucking relapsed—
shit actually felt…
hopeful.

but babe,
i got into law school instead.
and hey,
he said he was clean.
and yeah,
i really wanted to believe him.

because
of course,
i absolutely
fucking cared.

fucking duh.

i loved watching him
with his…actual daughter.

and
he wasn’t
always
fucking high.
shit.
he was running.
pushing her ass around.

…

(not
looking like
a spun out,
bloated,
punk rock,
fucking drop-out)

—

because
yeah.
that’s the fucked-up part—
you can love someone
and still get
fucking played,
betrayed,
and fucked over.
both things can be true.
and both fucking are.

but i feel
fucking bad
for my daughter.
i wish he never met her.
because to meet her?
and fucking leave her?????

yo.
straight fucking disgusting.
what a
fucking twat
of a human.

…
the messages from
strangers
who had dad’s just leave???
yeah,
they fucking hate those losers.

because yeah,
they’re definitely pieces of shit.

and—

yeah babe.
that’s the core wound,
isn’t it?

because i didn’t
clock the fucking betrayal
because it
never
even
fucking
occurred to me
that someone could
move like that.
like…
seriously,
i was over here
on fucking loyalty mode???
building a fucking family,
risking my body,
covering for his bullshit??
raising his kid,
defending his name
after he hit me???
and meanwhile—
he was out here living like betrayal
is a fucking reflex???
shit,
it’s not just
what he did—
but how easy it was for him
to be a fucking liar.

…

of course
it broke my fucking brain.
because i wouldn’t have done it.
i couldn’t have done it.

nah.

i was too busy
trying to fucking save him—

but shit,
he just needed
a female downgrade,
some molly,
a little blow,
a shot,
below-average looking conspirators,
and
neon fucking body paint.

aka
—not a fucking baby.
definitely not a fucking family.

nah.
a fucking glow stick.

…

but yeah
i know you hate to hear it—
but i ended it.
with that protection order.
because yeah,
babe—he wanted to come home.
and yes.
he was abusive.
sweetie—
i definitely signed the divorce papers.
but…he didn’t want me to.
he wouldn’t sign them.
he left them there.
in the camper—
signed.

and fuck it.
i said,
well shit—
we are a family.
fucking wrong.

so let’s be clear:
he would’ve
filled them out,
…sent that shit…
to my known
fucking address
like…a year ago—
if
all
these desperate
little yayo goblins
weren’t such
embarrassing,
tragic,
awkward replacement options.

but the truth is,
babygirl,
he didn’t leave for you.

nah.

he left because
addiction makes cowards out of men
who were never strong enough
to choose recovery.
over easy lies,
ugly women,
and fast highs.

yikes,
y’all didn’t win.
you volunteered to lose with him.
and now you’re stuck
defending a man
who can’t even defend himself in court.

sweetie,
he sat next to me
at the social security office
on his fucking birthday
so i could take his last name.
he used to whisper about our future.
and whatever the dream?

i’d always say yes.
move?
sure.
the city?
ok.
because the point was…
our fucking family.

duh bitch.

but listen
yeah.
he was an addict.
clearly
still is.
shit—
that’s the
only fucking thing—
the internet can agree on.
because truly bro,
these
bitches
were
straight-up
slutty drug plugs
to a
married,
combat vet
with a fucking brain injury—
L
M
F
A
O

(slow clap)

…
so
fucking
tragic,
they were like—
married???
with a baby???
fucking sign me up.

also.
lol.
here’s some blow.

and then?
babe,
he traded all of it
for the coke,
court orders,
chaos,
and low-tier women
who thought
proximity
to destruction
and addiction
made them special.

(and
who
definitely
wear
their ugly-ass
shoes
inside
on the fucking carpet.

ew.
fucking filthy behavior.
lmfao.)

but here’s the part
that never changes:
i told the truth.
i lived it.
i survived it.
and the only reason
you're still pretending
i didn't
is because if
i did…
you have to admit
you’re not a victim.
you’re a fucking volunteer.

and yes babe,
it’s as pathetic as it looks.

(shit, all of y’all)

plot twist!!! you said “nah babe, let me HELP 😘”

bro.
i genuinely thought
i was gonna need:
a legal war room,
a notary,
three affidavits,
and jesus christ himself
to prove you were a
lying,
cheating,
broke,
fraudulent,
coked-out piece of shit.

lol.

but u said
”nah sweetheart
i fucking got this…
literally hold my fucking beer”—

like damn ok!!!
post the crimes! tag me next time!

…

stalking/harassing my legal wife? unquestionably check.
habitual cheating? duh, check.
shameless lying? check.
repeated fraud? fucking check.
and sobriety? lmfao. nope.

bro really said:
✨ here’s me cheating with bravado
✨ here’s me defrauding my child’s social security number
✨ here’s me looking like a bloated baked bean in texas
✨ here’s me… wasted again, after court-ordered sobriety

homie gave
full fucking confessionals
like it was a goddamn vlog series

“day 46 of violating bond and day 375 abandoning my child 🥰”

?????

so…
this deadbeat dad,
with all seriousness—
was like
NOPE;

“babe 🥺 i’ll prove it myself. repeatedly. in public. with photos.”

like damn.
i was prepping for trial
and you handed me
five fucking social accounts labeled “evidence 🫶.”

…

so thank u, babe.
ur my favorite co-counsel.

xoxo

🥲🖤📉

zero threat detected. 💀

bro

ok so…
am i supposed to be
jealous of people…
who are dumber than me???
and mid??
like…very, very mid???
like genuinely.
i’m asking because i can’t relate
i feel nothing.

babygirl got picked…
for jail visits???

are y’all being serious??

because it’s so uncomfortable,
like…
are you seeing…
what we’re seeing??

…
the
entire
fucking
internet is like
are they on drugs???????

omg.

am i
supposed to be
envious of people who are…
objectively less hot??
and have a fucking mugshot??
like for real?????
nah seriously,
i’m asking because
you flaunt shit like…
it’s not a joke???
(i’m confused)
so—
i’ve searched my entire
fucking nervous system
and i still feel
absolutely
fucking
nothing.

ummmmm.

these bitches are tragic.

like i’m supposed
to be threatened
by the chick
who failed upwards
with a face built
like a failed abortion
and the iq
of a fucking…satellite school?

no.

shit—
am i getting fucking punk’d??

the felony fantasy?
the…face?
the… “alt-punk” awkward-ass fashion attempt???

the public humiliation???

bro,
i did that shit better
at 15
mid child abuse.
lmfao.

pathetic.

…

jesus
fucking
christ.

some of y’all
really
wake up every day
in your little demon dimension
being such a
feral little goblin
that your soul’s
already got a seatbelt
on for the fucking drop ride
to eternal damnation???

out here
just
clocking into
the devil’s fucking apprenticeship
9 to 5 in a demon inferno,
and still be like..
“grateful for the journey 💫”

what???

omg.

these bitches out here like
“i’m not the villain”
girl you have…
actual fucking horns

you are the problem.
you are the enabler.

these bitches
act like because
someone needed a mattress,
because i made
contact with me
a fucking crime—
they won??
omfg.
nah babe
you got sister wifed
because your
bar was in fucking felon hell
and you were already
praying to land
in that level of fucking desperation??

you look so fucking stoked,
to have…anyone.

and —

i’m supposed to feel
jealous of that?
this was your…
best fucking option??
holy shit.
no babe
i feel nothing.
not envy
not rage
not sadness
just that
blank dissociative stare
like when your phone's on 2%
and you're still not plugging it in
cuz what the fuck even matters anymore??

bro—

why are you so fucking embarrassing???

like honey,
this your final form??
mid,
aging,
beer-bellied,
mugshotted,
and morally bankrupt?
slay i guess.

lmfao.

“i’m sorry daddy is a loser” 🍺😵👵🏼🎉🎶🕺🏻

is this dude…
deadass trying to troll his own kid
with a fucking photo dump

(🤡🗑️)

bro.
you abandoned your daughter.
you got hit with felony charges.
you spiraled into a coke-fueled clown era.
and your idea of a comeback?

hiking with some burnt-out
daycare reject’s kids in matching fucking hats?

holy shit.

✨👯

…

you must be using.
no one is this stupid.

and like…

the internet fucking hates you, dude.
like hates you.

we’re talking
hundreds of thousands of views,
nonstop screenshots,
constant shares,
and running commentary from complete strangers
about how fucking disgusting you are,
and how she’s a joke.

your mugshot is airdropped more
than your daughter’s name
is said in your house.
no one thinks this looks healed.
they definitely mention you look like shit,
and they think it looks
criminally fucking embarrassing.
and they’re right.

🏃‍♂️💨👶💸

every new post gets
circulated,
dissected,
fucking archived.
people you don’t even know
send me your shit because
i don’t even care to look.
your life is a group chat punchline,
and everyone
you surround yourself with?
trashed in the replies.
especially the temu troll.

like—
does her multiple babydaddies know
she’s cohabitating with her kids
and a fucking felon
who choked his pregnant wife?
and abandoned his own child?
who’s literally on bond
and still pretending
this is some clean-slate redemption arc?

while him and mommy are out getting fucked up??
…on the record???

lmfao.
ok custody battle.

—

shit.

babe,
you are not the rebrand you think you are.

like imagine posting
fucking “family bonding 🥰”
while actively refusing to support the family you actually made.

yo.
disasterly goddamn diabolical.
absolute garbage.
and now??
the whole world can see.

sweetie,
my out-of-shape,
bleached loser—
this isn’t healing.
this is fucking hallucinating.

lmfao.

—

so let’s get this straight:

you vanished during your kid’s first year of life
(because felony charges + drug benders + midlife 300 fans influencer era)
and now you’re back online
with your crusty little holiday shoot??
like we forgot?

fucking yikes.

bro…are you okay??

…

“adventure day”
with some other woman’s kids?
bro,
you skipped your daughter’s birthday
but made time for
fucking
drugs and delusion??

🙄🤚

yooooo.
the fucking fantasy is olympic-level.

baby,
you didn’t heal.
you didn’t grow.
you definitely didn’t fucking evolve.

you fucking hid.
like a little bitch.
you ran when i put up boundaries,
instead of taking a fucking clean piss test—
homie,
you disappeared
while your baby was in diapers
—after strangling her pregnant mom,
skipping court,
and going full coke gremlin—
and now you’re out here like:
“fall fest with my bonus babies! 🥰✨”

sweetie—
you don’t even have your original child.

bro.
how could you be—
such a fucking embarrassment???

like congrats
on your coke and alcohol-fueled
hallmark moment,
but you’re out here
performing stepdad of the year
while your daughter’s actual mother
is solo parenting through
the fucking dumpster fire you caused.

👨🏼🚪🚶🏼‍♂️💨

yo.
this trashy,
coked-out slut
is gonna get you thrown back in jail.

remember i said that.
think about it when you re-enter the cell.
think about it when the cops play back the report.
think about it when the screenshots
you forgot you posted show up in court.

—

and let’s be so fucking real:

the only person
who’s ever gonna look back
on those posts and care
is the daughter you left behind.

you’re not just ghosting her.
you’re publicly flexing
your new “family” while you do it.
and the only person
that performance will haunt?

is her.

she’ll be 11 one day,
scrolling through old screenshots,
wondering why daddy was smiling in fall festival photos
with kids who weren’t hers—
while she ate dollar store mac & cheese
with a single mom in court,
trying to make sure
she never gets fucking exposed
to your absolute horrendous-tier violence.

lmfao.
not the pumpkin patch.
not the…birthday card.
not the fucking call.

just the fucking evidence.
and she’ll have all of it.

babe.
she’s gonna scroll past that shit
one day and know exactly what it was:
✨ daddy playing house with someone else’s kids
✨ daddy making excuses instead of amends
✨ daddy trying to filter out the felony

“damn, daddy was a fucking loser”

b.
no hashtag
is gonna save you from that.

—

you wanna talk about what’s gonna “haunt” her?

not my website.
not this post.
not the screenshots.
not the fucking sarcasm.
not even this savage-ass breakdown of your bullshit.

nah.
she’s gonna be fucking haunted by—

✦ your face in someone else’s family photo
✦ your name in a criminal case
✦ the silence you left her with
✦ the way i had to become two parents
…while you played dress-up
in a borrowed dad role you didn’t fucking earn

and baby...
there’s not enough matching outfits on this earth to cover that shame.

👴🏼🥳🔊💃

—

🧾 meanwhile, in real life...

✦ court-ordered child support: zero
✦ criminal docket: active
✦ birthday: missed
✦ baby’s first steps: missed
✦ felony warrant: not missed lol

—

so go ahead.
post your little fall vibes.
tag your little weird-ass family.
filter out your pathetic-ass guilt.

just know:
the internet is watching.
your daughter is watching.
and i’m not deleting a fucking thing.

oh
and are we contacting people’s
✨ schools,
✨ jobs,
✨ family,
✨ baby daddies…
✨ employers directly now??

bet.

let’s go bitches.

🚨 public service announcement for openly intoxicated temu “moms” 🚨

✨cohabitating with a felon isn’t a flex—it’s a fucking custody risk✨

hey girl.
quick question:

do the baby daddies know
you’re living with a man who…

✨strangled and punched his pregnant wife?✨

because babe,
everyone is sending me—
their contact info.
to update them
on the full fucking felony arc.

but i haven’t…yet. lol

…

no like seriously.
do they?
because your little domestic roleplay
might look cute on a trail,
but in a fucking courtroom?
you’re just a deadbeat mother
cohabitating with a documented abuser on felony bond.

while living off
the support he gets
for claiming his actual family.

🚨 (aka: fucking fraud) 🚨

congrats babe,
you just gave the judge
a safety concern in three screenshots or less.

and while we’re here:
…posting drunk on the timeline every weekend without your kids?
not exactly the behavior that screams
stable,
sober,
primary parent.

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

add in a lil online harassment
of the actual wife he abused?
that’s not just messy.
that’s criminal intimidation under more than one state statute.
and yeah,
it’s that bad.
💅🏼

girl you’re not the new wife.
you’re the next fucking defendant.
and trust:
family court will eat you alive for this shit.

🤡🎉

—

so let’s break this shitshow down:

✨ 🏚️ housing a violent felon while your kids are present?
🚩 child endangerment risk.
✨ 🍷posting drunk selfies while your kids are MIA?
🚩 custody credibility issue.
✨ 🧠obsessively harassing the legal wife online like a jealous ex with no boundaries?
🚩 documented criminal behavior.
✨ 💁‍♀️flaunting the fake family life while your own is falling apart behind the scenes?
🚩 motive, pattern, reputation—
and all going in a fucking declaration.

—

lol

sweetie,
you’re not building a future.
you’re building a fucking case against yourself.

—

friendly reminder, girly:

just because
🚨 you’ve convinced a coked-out fugitive to sleep on your couch
doesn’t mean the courts
will let you keep your kids in that environment.

girlfriend.
custody judges
don’t care
about your pumpkin patch pics.
they care about
✨ safety.
✨ substance abuse.
✨ fucking stability.
and you’re striking out on all three.

better hope
your co-parents
(clearly multiple)
doesn’t pull the records
because babe…
i already have.

uh oh.

if the felony fits…🔥👨🏼👻👶🏼

aka: your honor, they were dumb on purpose

or…“siri, play ‘bitch better have my money’”

—

👨🏼+👻+👶🏼✨

like bro.
imagine committing actual crimes
and then logging on like
“i’ll sue for defamation 😤”

the fuck???

honey.
you can’t sue someone for being correct

babe.
you’re not being defamed,
you’re being fucking quoted.

—

this dumb motherfucker
left behind a wife,
a baby,
and 42 fucking exhibits.

homie,
what???

me over here like—
babe.
“defamed by who?? my screenshots??”

🥺✨

ok
you fucking
math wizard
you strangled your pregnant wife,
defrauded her,
stole her money,
abandoned your own baby,
and there’s a literal
fucking court case
with your name on it
v. the fucking people of colorado—
but sure,
let’s talk about your reputation…

yo, gtfo.

the goddamn
audacity to shout
dumbass “defamation”
when the records are
fucking timestamped,
notarized,
and blessed by
three fucking jurisdictions
homie is out here
like robbing a bank on camera—
and threatening to sue
the security guard
for describing his fucking outfit.

🥷💰🔫

like be so for real.
every single document exists.
my financial rep?
confirmed fraud,
absolute misconduct,
some sort of awkwardly concealed affair,
and a “weirdly friendly”
financial relationship
with my relapsing husband
that’s literally in location data,
on record,
in the signed documents,
in a court case,
in fucking compliance emails.
and then she blocked me
when i asked questions—

like babe,
that’s not privacy,
that’s fucking obstruction.

✨🥺

my desperate bestie?
admitted she’d been in comms
with him
during his little stimulant spiral.
like yeah girl,
“helping” apparently meant
helping him lose his fucking mind.
then acted shocked
when i connected the stupid dots.
fucking spoiler:
the dots were shaped like wild-ass betrayal.

and the secret second life??
bro he documented that himself—
posts,
selfies,
the whole lifetime movie / yayo fever dream—
while under court order,
while in contempt,
while his actual family was eating cold cereal
without a fucking babysitter.
yo.
he didn’t get caught.
he live-streamed his own fucking downfall.

on purpose.

lmfao.

🥺⛓️‍💥⚖️

so yeah,
the defamation threats are
pure fucking comedy.
imagine every lie you told
having a fucking timestamp,
and still thinking
“gotcha” works on someone holding
your dumbass tax returns,
your texts,
your fucking birth certificate,
and your ugly ass mugshot.

sweetie…
you don’t need a lawyer,
babe—you need a fucking calculator.
because
the math keeps mathing:
truth > tantrum.
crime + cover-up = consequence.

🔦🏠🚶‍♂️🌙

and you can’t sue the evidence for being louder than you.

these people
keep weaponizing vocabulary
they found on fucking tiktok
as if “defamation”
is just “someone said something i don’t like”

no, sweetie—
that’s called consequence
and if you don’t want your crimes to trend
maybe stop committing absurd-tier offenses and shit

✨welcome to reality, dumbass✨

fucking conclusion:
threatening defamation suits
when you’re literally
the felon
in fucking question
is the legal equivalent
of shitting your pants
in an elevator
and saying…
“whoever mentions it gets sued.”

😏❄️🤜🏻💥🤰

babe…
the only thing defamatory here
is your fucking life choices.

deadbeat logic: “the custody paradox™”

deadbeat dad math:
deranged and dangerous babymama 101.
aka: “the call is coming from inside the coke den”

—

🐍🤥💬

like let’s apply
fucking logic for one goddamn second.

nah like
BABE—
let’s just line this shit up real quick
because
the GODDAMN reasoning
is olympic-level embarrassing.

…

if i was
actually
the demented psycho
in your delulu narrative—
unfit,
crazy,
manipulative,
violent,
abusive,
whatever the fucking slur of the week is—
then
⚠️ explain
why this man
dipped faster than
a fucking 7-Eleven taquito at 2 a.m.
and left
his literal fucking baby with me???

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

lol.

you’re telling me
the “crazy abusive ex”
magically
became the only parent
feeding,
housing,
and protecting the baby 24/7
while he’s out there
drinking,
posting concerts,
and playing fucking suburban stepdad?
make it make sense, bitch.

⚠️

bro.
you can’t
ditch your kid
for a fucking year
and still pretend
you’re the rational one.
…you are a fucking clown.

⚠️

sir.
you can’t
have multiple protection orders,
a fucking felony case,
and a whole second family
and then pretend
your baby mama is the problem.

⚠️

damn dude.
so…🕵🏻‍♂️
you left your infant with the alleged devil
and ran off to chase
a high
and a female
who can’t spell
fucking accountability
who has
multiple fucking children—
and multiple baby daddies??

holy.
fucking.
insanity.

⚠️

like be so serious.
if i was
that unsafe,
he’d be calling
✨the cops✨
over his actual baby,
not fucking adderall.

🤥🥺✨

you mean
to tell me mister “victim of the evil ex”
looked at his child—
his one genetic fucking W—
and said

“nah, she’s safer with the fucking monster”?

😈🐍🔪

lmfao.
that’s not custody strategy,
that’s a fucking confession by behavior.

if i was what you say,
you’d have
court orders,
supervised visits,
CPS knocking on my door
like a fucking jehovah’s witness.
…but instead?

✨ absolute fucking silence ✨

this baby daddy
didn’t even
pretend to give a fuck.
nah.
✨ no calls.
✨ no diapers.
✨ no fucking child support.
just
a digital fucking pity parade,
a full ass tantrum—
and
a “girlfriend”
doing shitty PR
like she’s running
crisis criminal comms for a flop boy.

✨oh…shit✨

but you know
what
that’s called?
💀 goddamn abandonment.
you know
what
it’s not called?
💀 fucking protecting your child.

…bro.

🤔✨👎

lol
my guy—
you can’t
🤡 desert your kid
and still act like
🤡 the moral fucking compass.

o
m
g

…
the goddamn
needle broke
the second you selected
partying over fucking parenting.

🤥🫤🤨👺

dumbass.

…

so either
he’s the most negligent father alive
or
i’m exactly what i’ve always been—
the stable one
who kept that kid fed,
safe,
and loved
while y’all were out here
fucking raving—
like it’s therapy for the unmedicated.

🤡

the math
is mathing, babe:
if i was the danger,
he would have never left her—
instead,
he ran to a relapse family,
lol nah.
he’s got mugshots,
fucking felonies,
and
a texas sister wife ☠️
who posts
✨ bar selfies ✨
while our kid sleeps
through the fucking night.

👀🤫🤥

so yeah,
keep broadcasting your bullshit,
but the plot holes
are showing.
because if i’m the demon,
explain why
mr. felony strangulation himself
dipped to texas
and just…
never came back for his own child?

what???

☠️☠️☠️☠️

like
✨ full radio silence.
✨ no court motion.
✨ no visit.
✨ not even a fucking grocery gift card.

🤡

…

okie doke.

keep the lies coming.
every accusation
just spotlights the same truth—
he left his baby
with the fucking “villain.”
and never came back.

never even checked in??
lmfao.

nope.

sounds like…✨a fucking falsehood.
sounds like…✨manipulating the jury.

fucking cool.

—

so to recap:

💩🗣️ either…
i’m not the fucking monster—
or he’s just
the kind of man
who abandons his kid to one.

…
either way,
not a fucking flex.

🚶🏻‍♀️anthropology: 🌴🕊️📚🦜🙄 the academic version of white people going “ew what’s that?” & then stealing it.

translation:
“white woman discovers the jungle”
a tragicomedy in academia.
colonizer core.
slut supremacy.
she came.
she saw.
she fucking journaled.
then blamed
the translation for
her fucking moral decay.

…

fucking anthropology.

🧴✈️🧃📖🦧

lol.

like let’s be real—
this shit is not a science,
it’s a long-ass excuse
for europeans
to play fucking safari
with brown people’s lives.

“we study culture.”

bitch you
invented
colonization,
fucking stds,
and goddamn gender disappointment.

—

girl.
you don’t study culture—
you fucking ruin it
and then write about it
in MLA format.

lol.

coooooool.

anthropology babe
fucking swears
she’s dismantling systems
but
somehow
always ends up
building fucking shrines
to her-goddamn-self.

shit.

🐒🧠🧑‍🤝‍🧑

—

talks about ethics
like it’s a love language
and practices them
like an elective
she fucking dropped
halfway through—
before midterms.

sweetheart—
you can’t
major in “understanding people”
while being
the least self-aware bitch alive
studying culture
like it’s a mirror
then acting shocked
when it shows your reflection
snorting lines of your own hypocrisy.

wtf.

—

she’s the kind
of feminist
who quotes audre lorde
but still treats women
like collateral damage
a contradiction
in doc martens
she shouldn’t be wearing—
preaching boundaries
while violating every single one.

literally—

🎓💀😭

two classes in
and i was like
yeah fuck this colonizer bullshit.
this shit seems fake.
whole syllabus
just white people quoting other white people
about nonwhite people
they fucking traumatized.

—

every
dumbass theory
starts with…

“after we conquered them…”

and ends with…

“we found that they are fascinating, but primitive.”

🏺🤏✨

anthropology
is basically…

“white guilt: the degree.”

it’s fucking racism
with a bibliography.

—

“fieldwork”
means flying somewhere poor,
fucking the locals,
and calling it fucking immersion.

omfg.
you’re not
dismantling power structures,
you’re just
fucking snorting them.

and babe—
lol
you’re out here teaching
“intersectionality”
while you probably
did a line
and my husband
in the same fucking bathroom?
✨ew✨

…

🗣️ girl.
you didn’t
dismantle shit.
you just
ethnographically
documented your own
drugged out hoe phase.

truly.
anthropology ain’t deep.
and neither are you.

babe,
this shit is just
colonial porn
with footnotes and a fucking grant.
every lecture
smells like sunscreen
and fucking white supremacy.
congrats on your findings,
professor dumb bitch.
you’re not an academic.
you’re a walking fucking case study
in self-reported delusion.

🏛️🏺⛏️

baby,
you didn’t “challenge patriarchy,”
you fucking joined it—
barefoot,
coked out,
and quoting bell hooks
(bless her)
between bumps.
humanity’s been fine without you.

✨🧑🏻‍⚕️👩🏾‍🍳👨🏼‍🌾🧕🏽👨🏿‍💻✨

funny how
the woman writing about
fucking cultural ethics
never saw
fucking any
in her own behavior.

academic by title
anthropologist by delusion
white woman by fucking default setting

🕶️🧴🪶🦍📸

bro would cheat on a ✨drug test✨ w/ another fucking drug test. 🕊️☠️

lol.
so—

🤡🧃

bro’s résumé just says
“fucking liability.”

after two years
of watching these people operate,
it’s absolutely fucking clear:
this isn’t just abuse.
it’s a case study in
unremarkable fucking degeneracy.
their loyalty lasts
as long as the line in the bathroom.
they call it “healing,”
but it’s mostly fraud
and highly filtered fucking selfies.
this shit isn’t enviable—
just heightened-level evil.
the kind of fucking dysfunction
you’d expect from a support group
for people who peaked
during the pandemic
and never emotionally recovered
from having to interact
with the public
after 2022.

like,
so
fucking
cringe.

✨

💣 like damn trolls.
retreat back into your
🔥 powder caves,
🔥 felony family day delusions +
🔥 fucking rave occasions.

…like what???
he went from life insurance
to a Ken doll
post coke-addiction??

girl,
your man’s idea
of “providing” is
defrauding the military
off his
fucking newborn’s
social security number—
and giving people new
fucking trauma responses.

💀💀💀

omg.
they thought trauma
made them interesting,
but it just made them
fucking predictable.

ladies
his love language is
📸 fraud and fucking drugs.
the man treats felonies
like fucking collectibles.

and listen
the universe
gave them
multiple chances to evolve,
and they chose
“mediocre dick and delusion”
every fucking time.

yo.
every single one
of them thinks
they’re mysterious
when really
they’re just
loud and unhealed.

💉💊🧪🥃🚬

with less self esteem,
and fewer romantic options.

baby,
she’s out here defending him
like the man didn’t google
“can i drink and do blow on felony bond.”

is strangulation,
of a pregnant woman—
like…
that bad??

yeah homie.

it is.

bro,
how many dumb bitches
thought they were special
while this dude
✨spiraled into a fucking relapse??✨

…

are you serious??

these fucking geniuses.

🧱❄️💰💋

—

so.
it’s pathetic.

he didn’t ruin my life —
he just
downgraded his own.

to creepy old deadbeat—
✍️ that still parties—
✍️ with a female
✍️ literally nobody wants.

fucking ✨yikes.✨

—

like people
know you have…a baby???
and a wife??

so i guess
that must be why
your buddies have been
watching
because holy shit
look at this dude
what a fucking disaster.

why does your pregnant wife
have a
❄️ photo album of bruises
❄️ and your kid’s
❄️ learning to talk without you there—
❄️ while you’re fucked up in texas
❄️ pretending
❄️ it’s a goddamn vacation?

✨👃💳

lol.

yeah, ✨looks solid,✨ homie.
love that for you.
daddy of the year,
brought to you by
deferred responsibility
and defrauded VA benefits
the rest of us pay for.

lmfao.

🕯️

bro.
seriously—
the main villain
bro peaked at the county clerk’s office.
this dude
managed to be
violent,
broke,
disloyal,
fraudulent,
and fucking forgettable.
a once-in-a-lifetime intersection
of no integrity and no fucking talent.
sweetie—
the dye job says “regret.”
the shoes say
“my wife bought these.”

[💀🦹]
this dude
cheated like it was a goddamn job,
worked like it was a fucking hobby,
lied like it was a dumbass prayer.
oh yeah—
and punched me in the head
fucking repeatedly. 🤜🏻💥😵
couldn’t afford groceries
but still found time
to soft-launch multiple relationships
while on felony bond.
his only communicable skill
is causing damage
in exchange for
absolutely no fucking value.

⚰️✨

and he’s fucking balding
+ goddamn swollen
you can smell
the unpaid child support
through the fucking wifi.

🕊️

jesus christ.

honestly?
if mediocrity
had a warrant out,
it would look like
his dumbass 📸 😬 DMV photo.

—

then??

💅 the coke squad
you can always tell
when someone is
the second choice
and fucking knows it.
they didn’t just
screw my husband—
some of these bitches
did it while still married.
posted it publicly.
my “financial rep” is still stalking me.
then
the dumbest troll
of them all—
called it harassment
when i fucking noticed.

holy shit.
congrats
on building a relationship
entirely out of your inability
to stay fucking unobserved.
girl,
you needed attention that badly??
who didn’t this dude fuck???
like—probably my bestie, on blow.
probably also
a busted-ass fiduciary in theory,
a creepy-ass villain in practice.
helped him
💸 steal my policies,
💸 defraud me,
💸 get him high out of his goddamn mind,
💸 essentially beat me,
💸 steal my fucking peace,
💸 my whole goddamn pregnancy,
💸 and my fucking postpartum signatures,
then vanished into
the fucking blocked privacy settings??

uhhhh shit.

but…is that professional?

🚨💀

after obvious fraud???
✨nah,✨ babe— that’s guilt.

that’s still spoliation.

🚨💀

honey—
i’m allowed
(legally goblin)
to ask you,
why as my financial rep,
asking for medical docs—
my husband is pinging
from your couch????

babe,
that is misconduct by default.
straight up
money laundering via venmo
and fucking vibes.
violated ethics,
the law,
boundaries,
a bunch of other legal shit
and fucking logic.

elite-level psychos.

shit.
they didn’t just watch me.
they studied me.
they monitored
my fucking healing
like it was the street price
of a fucking gram bag.

🪦🩶

bro,
these ✨ weird bitches ✨
are not bystanders.
they’re co-signed fucking cowards—
absolutely goddamn delusional,
with browser histories
that read like subpoenas
waiting to goddamn happen.

to recap:

stalkers.
obsessed.
wildly jealous.
absolutely never picked.
aging fucking terribly.
evidently always on drugs.
terrible parents.
absolutely addicts.
dangerously irresponsible.
and…
fucking criminals.

😏❄️🤜🏻💥🤰

shit.
the squad’s group chat
probably sounds like
a coke-fueled fan club
for people who’ve never
been the main fucking character
in their goddamn life.

fucking tragic.

🪦💀⚰️

fatherless behavior 😔🚫✨ the bar’s in hell & your man still shows up late, high, and asking for gas money.

you wanna know
how i know
i’m not the piece of shit?

✨🫶🥺

'cause when
the love of my fucking life
got someone else pregnant—
while we were still
tangled up in love,
in history,
in fucking gravity—
i didn’t fuck that shit up.
i didn’t fight with him about it.
i didn’t fake some pick-me fucking fantasy.

⚠️

i told him:
you need to
be a father.
not for me.
not for her.
for that baby.
for the version of you
that could still
fucking sleep at night.
because
that’s what love fucking is.

and not the watered-down,
instagram-filtered bullshit
you hoes call love—
i’m talking real,
bloody-knuckled,
soul-fucked up love.
love that sacrifices.
love that
doesn’t need a fucking audience.

i loved that kid
sight fucking unseen.
because she was part of him.
because she didn’t ask for the drama.
because if you really love someone,
you don’t pretend
their kid
doesn’t fucking exist
just to stay delusional.
nah, i didn’t erase her.
i made space.
i said
add fucking chairs to the table
not set fire to the house.

damn.

like yeah
i’ve been a lotta things.
absolutely messy.
fucking traumatized.
too forgiving.
but not once have i ever
built my fucking peace
on someone else’s suffering.
not once
did i look at a kid out there
and think “eh, not my problem.”

fucking psycho.

you don’t get points
for empathy
until it costs you something.
and i paid in heartbreak.
in watching the person
i loved
walk straight into a life
that didn’t have me in it,
and still saying fucking go.
be a dad.
be a man.
do the right fucking thing
even if it fucking breaks me.

(it did) 🤫

you know how sick that is?
to love someone enough
to want them whole,
even when their wholeness
means you fucking lose them?
that’s not weakness.
that’s sacred-level fucking strength.

and yeah,
it fucked me up.
it will always fuck me up.
because i meant it.
i tried.
i looked after
the mother.
and it wasn’t
some fake bitchy olive branch—
it was real.
i wanted peace.
i wanted her to know
someone gave a fuck.
even if he didn’t.

and when i saw him again?
didn’t ask if he missed me.
didn’t beg for closure.
first thing out my mouth was:
“where’s your daughter?”
'cause that’s
what the fuck matters.

🚶‍♂️🚧

go ask him.

you all
keep confusing obsession
with fucking devotion.
keep mistaking enablement
for fucking loyalty.
keep dating men
who abandon their kids 💫
and thinking he’d never do that to me.
baby, he already did.
you’re just
too busy gulping down
delusion to taste the truth.

he calls it “my wife is crazy”
you call it true love
the judge calls it
“contempt of fucking court”

💥⚖️

—

me?
i could’ve let him
pretend the past didn’t exist.
but i had the audacity to grow a spine.
i told him to do better.
i told him to love more.
and if that meant losing him?
then good fucking riddance.

because i will never—fucking never—
be the girl
that lays next to a coward
who lets his own child
go fucking hungry
while she plays pretend wife
on dirty-ass sheets.

ew.

truly so trashy.

👉🤢

you bitches
are all highly disrespectful.
and desperate af.

and you know
what separates me
from the gutter trash
that came before/during/after?
they saw a man
fuck with a woman
and a fucking child
and thought,
perfect, my turn.
they saw neglect,
addiction,
blatant abuse—
fucking chaos
and called it romance.
they looked at his
evil ass narcissism—
and decided
to live
in the fucking mess
instead of cleaning it the fuck up.
like, congrats,
you’re fucking a deadbeat.

spiritual poverty looks good on you, babe.

🤷🏼‍♂️❌

he’s got a newborn,
a court date,
and a girlfriend
that’s into disney and cartoons
but sure, babe
he’s healing 🙏🏼

meanwhile
im out here
mailing father’s day cards
to remind him of his kid.
i told him
to love children
that weren’t even his
because that’s what family means.
i begged him
to show up
for someone else
even while
he was disappearing from me.
that’s not codependency.
that’s fucking conscience.

listen.
i would’ve taken
both those kids
and raised them
like my own if life had let me.
because love—real love—isn’t about winning.
it’s about witnessing someone else’s humanity
and fucking protecting
it even when they can’t.

and every single person
who ever called me
crazy,
or dramatic,
or fucking bitter—
nah.
you’re confusing bitterness
with fucking boundaries,
and love with possession.
you can’t comprehend
loyalty that doesn’t serve ego,
only loyalty that
feeds the fucking fantasy 📢

i mean fuck
i’m not perfect.
but i didn’t build
my fucking house
on the bones
of a child’s heartache.

🥀

nah.
i didn’t play pretend
with someone else's baby
crying in the fucking background.
and that’s the whole fucking difference.

yeah.
i know i’m not the piece of shit.
because
when the moment
came to fucking prove it,
i chose compassion over control.
i chose truth over my own comfort.
i chose a kid’s peace
over my own happy ending.

so yeah.
keep talking shit.
keep stalking my page.
keep trying to understand how i do it.

the answer’s simple.
i have a fucking soul.
my heart is really fucking solid.
and i’m not a piece of shit.

🤸‍♂️✨♾️

and the only thing
he’s ever committed to
is new pussy
and not showing the fuck up

🕊️✨🚫

fatherless behavior:
when he’s allergic to condoms,
commitment,
and cash apps that say “for the baby”.

sponsored by:
delusion.
drugs.
and women who mistake trauma bonding
for a personality type.

stay safe out there bestie
it’s contagious.

how to commit marital fraud and abandon your newborn 🏃🏼‍♂️💨👶🏼💸

aka: 🍼 how to accidentally marry a sociopath while researching sperm banks

the funniest fucking part
of this whole story?
i didn’t even want to get married.
yo,
not my fucking dream.
like not even a little.
ask my ex—
it was a rebound from
losing his goddamn child.
and because
i was almost mid-thirties
i fucking spiraled.
the hubby demon knew that.
i wanted to be a mom
so fucking bad.
i was literally comparing sperm banks—
international vs. domestic—
figuring out how to have a child
alone,
peacefully,
with fucking intention.

meanwhile,
this dusty manchild
i already blocked twice
starts love-bombing
from the digital fucking grave.
friend slot: fucking revoked.
boyfriend slot: absolutely burned.
so what does he do?
he begs to have a baby with me.
yes.
i swear to fucking god.
asks for my future like it’s nbd
and when i
finally let him back in?
he walks in and
fucking proposes marriage
like it’s a fucking trap.

all him.
LITERALLY.
ALL.
HIS.
FUCKING.
IDEA.

so what does he do??
while sleeping in your bed?
living off you cleaning toilets pregnant??

…

immediately starts cheating.
immediately starts lying.
immediately starts siphoning my savings.

AND THEN?

STARTS KICKING MY ASS.

while i’m pregnant, he’s:

💋 posted at some busted-ass female coworkers’ apartment till midnight
💋 using again behind my back
💋 crashing out on some troll’s couch DAILY instead of taking his army reserve seriously
💋 literally failing MEPS which would have given us healthcare
💋 driving around in my paid off car for plug runs + totaling that shit
💋 stealing cash advances off my credit cards while evidently chilling w/ my future financial rep
💋 in ongoing / non-stop contact with his female co-worker who avoids me
💋 let’s her sign on to our financial portfolio while she’s giving him large amounts of cash
💋 revoking his GI bill transfer after i drained all my tuition money on his “career”
💋 beating me so severely i end up in the ER days before our daughter is born

(right after he re-upped at the plug, on record)

all while i’m the one:

✦ working two jobs while pregnant
✦ paying for everything
✦ covering all the car costs
✦ taking care of his untrained 150-pound dog
✦ trying to keep our child alive inside me
✦ quietly being financially and physically abused
✦ throwing up constantly throughout

🏚️🤷🏼‍♂️🥃🍺

then he almost
strangles me to death
while i’m pregnant.
like actually chokes me out.
and i still can’t escape,
nah he won’t leave—
because…the baby.
BECAUSE I’M TRAPPED,
and he won’t vacate the condo—
without punching me repeatedly.

fuck,
so immediately after birth??
we move across the fucking country,
to my parents’ house for safety.
because he also drained everything—
i go into fucking survival mode.
he goes into straight gremlin mode.

and THEN
right before he ghosts his whole family,
he links up with my best friend,
a female with the exact same stimulant problem
who also lies about it,
who cheats and already fucks married men,
like it’s a fucking relapse romance
at a fucking NA meeting.
of course,
they start acting weird.
baby,
they’re contacting each other,
behind my back,
for weeks—
and suddenly he says he’s

“moving to texas for more money.”

💩👨🏼🤠

bro doesn’t
move to texas.
he walks directly into a second family.
no divorce.
no call.
no contact with his child.
i’m talking zero communication
unless it’s to his mommy,
who i’m texting to
update about his child,
like this is an episode of
Unsolved fucking Mysteries.

nah,
he straight up disappears
into his new bullshit spiral
while i’m caring for a newborn
and a fucking felony report.
he’s arrested
months later
and still doesn’t check on his daughter.

like…bro

comes within 10 minutes of her,
and runs back to texas
to party with his side bitch
while on fucking bond
because she doesn’t make him
get sober
to be around her children.

who’s also seemingly…
fucking married??????????

…

and then
she
posts it
in
fucking
public
because she’s that fucking stupid.

holy shit.

nice.

👻✨🇨🇱

what kind of psychopath does that?
the kind who weaponizes empathy.
the kind who proposes to avoid accountability.
the kind who treats
parenthood
like a fucking prop
and marriage like a financial fraud pipeline.

i didn’t marry him
because i believed in forever.
fucking please—
i married him because
he sold me a lie so specific
it had a fucking crib in it.

and i’m a loyal ass bitch.

but the most foul shit?
he never showed up again.
not for me.
not for her.
not even for him-fucking-self.

👨🏼👋🏼...⏳

he looks terrible.
like a fucking old-ass rave troll
that is quickly out-aging the party scene
he thinks he still looks
cool participating in—
homie, you’re like middle-aged,
and have a baby at home
and a wife in law school,
you promised to support—
and you’re out partying
with the most desperate bitch
on planet earth
who would even entertain
such a dude,
so fucking stoked
she recreated her entire social platform
around someone else’s husband.
crazy level shit.
but congrats my bloated and bleached king,
you had it all,
and decided
being a drug addict
and a fucking coward
was more worth it—

over dad
over bro with a backbone—
over a non-piece of shit.

babe,
you’re the most pathetic of them all.

👨🏼👎🏼

a man who tricks a woman
into pregnancy
marriage
and a life
and then abandons her
with his debt
and two years of below-par sex???

🌈 ?????
probably.

thanks you fucking troll.

🧾 character: failed.
🍼 fatherhood: abandoned.
📉 manhood: fucking fraudulent.
🏆 most likely to end up in jail over child support.

my dude…
do you even feel…
the embarrassment??
or is it
numbed the fuck out
by all the drinking,
awkward ass raves,
concerts,
herpes-filled make-out sessions—
the fucking blow
and ran through pussy?

👑

did i just… respect a man in authority? 🥵🔥🚓

nnnnaaaaah.
not me.
yo.

get me the fuck out of here.

cuz honestly—
i started to tilt my head a little.

…

me: fuck the system.
also me: babe did you just say…serve and protect?

🔥🔥🔥🔥

hiiiiiiiiii.

🥵

shit.
i am
fucking available. 💋

(bro, come on…i’m kidding)

ok.
put my ass in time out.

but💥—
you ever meet a dude
so fucking competent 🥵🥵🥵
you get mad
about how hot
goddamn ✨justice✨ is??

(damn babe 👑)

bro.
not me side-eyeing
a sworn fucking official
like,
wow honey,
you really read the protection order?
you respect women?

🐷🔥🥵

(cuff me, babe)

shit.

and fucking suddenly
i was like
wait… 💕
is this what fucking safety feels like???
nah, hold up a fucking second—
someone punch me
in my anarchist fucking face.

and then like
my trauma-scrambled brain went:
okay…
but
what if i sat on your desk and cried…respectfully??

yo.

I
AM
FUCKING
KIDDING.

✨🚨✨

but like…shit.
fuck me up.

honey—
moms have to live too.

lol
all out here like...
wait—am i a fucking cop wife now?
do i bring him coffee in court?
do i delete my fuck the police posts?

“🖕🏼👮🏼‍♂️🚓”

(babe! i didn’t mean it 💋)

LMFAO.

nah.

baby—
let’s just say
i almost thanked the fucking state.
omfg.
kill me.

🔥

but delete never.

🐷💔