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Ok. Let me lay my soul bare for a sec.

Today is one of those days.
A woe is me day. A don’t even fucking look at me unless you’ve got snacks or a solution day.

I’ve been up against a lot recently.. emotionally, spiritually, externally and I’m fucking tired.
Like body-tired. Bone-tired. Soul-tired.
My shit bucket has officially overflowed and is now dripping down my metaphorical hallway, and I’m just stood there, barefoot in the chaos, going “…cool.”

The silence gets to me the most.
The ghosting. The pretending people care when really they just want to extract your energy and go.
I give. And give. And give. And it echoes into fuck all.

You scream into the void so many times and all you get back is your own voice with slightly worse acoustics and the faint smell of betrayal.

And I know the pattern.
I wrote a book on it, for fuck’s sake.
I know I’m spiralling. I see it coming like a weather alert on the dashboard of my chest.

But here’s the cruel part of being self-aware:
You can see the storm, name the storm, track the storm and still get fucking drenched.

So yeah.
Let me just say it loud and unholy:
I’ve had a fucking nuff.

I give 120% to every single thing I touch.
Exposés. Statements. Survivors. Advocacy. Systems that are so broken they don’t even rattle when you shake them anymore, just sigh like a tired fridge.
I carry shit that would leave most people on their knees.

And most of the time? I don’t even get a bloody “thanks.”
But I still do it. Because if I don’t.. Who the fuck will?

And don’t get me wrong…
I’m not some pure-hearted martyr lighting candles in the dark with a serene glow.
I’m just a woman in a flaming room trying to save what I can while also flipping the table on my way out.

I’ve come to a horrible, hilarious clarity lately:
The world is full of people screaming woe is fucking me while sipping oat milk lattes and stealing energy like it’s currency.

And yeah I know, today I’m being a hypocrite.
I’m screaming woe is me too.
But at least I’m honest about it.

Leeches. Vampires. Straw-snorting soul suckers.
People ready to drain the life out of your ass with the same straw they just had up their fucking nose.
And they’ll tell you you’re the intense one.

I swear, I lived in solitary for a decade and it was more peaceful than trying to exist in a society full of spiritual bandwidth thieves and emotional shape-shifters.

Some days I ask myself: Am I a bad person?
Do I deserve this?

And then I remember:
This isn’t punishment.
It’s the Resistance Phase.
It’s what happens when you carry truth into places where people would rather rot in illusion.

This is a levelling-up, not a collapse.
Even when it feels like collapse.
Even when the debt is suffocating, the inbox is haunted, and the altar I prayed at is burning to the fucking ground.

Because guess what?

I’m still slaying.

Tears on my cheeks. Mud on my boots. Rage in my ribs. Still slaying.
Even on days when I’d rather hide under the duvet and manifest a sugar daddy with emotional intelligence and financial stability.

But here’s the heart of it all:

I will be fine.
Not because everything is okay, but because I am.
Even when I’m breaking.
Even when I’m screaming.
Even when I’m tired and bitter and soaked in my own soul rain.

So yeah.
Today is a Woe Is Me day.
But I’m letting it be that. Because there’s power in pain.
And I carry both like a weapon.

🖤

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