Just got broken up with so I’m hot and bitter. And hot

Written as soon as I heard Megan THEE Stallion got broken up with too. MEGAN THEE STALLION BITCH

What is inspiring me right now is Megan. THEE STALLION . She also just got broken up with. Or maybe she broke up with him. Makes more sense. And I’m replaying “Plan B” over and over again but with a newfound importance and intention.

That these men ain’t shit, were never shit, and will never be shit. So we gotta make money, make moves, and stay looking hot to make these bitches mad that we are the more adaptive and inventive species.

I read that men have the fear of dying alone and women have the fear of dying by their spouse or ending up in a bad relationship. I added the dying part because it’s true—these days and either I die or get hurt. But I digress.

There is also another theory that I heard, the cab light theory. Where men—okay, men theoretically categorize you already when they first meet you on whether you’re gonna be an important short time or an important lovely time—become available for a relationship at random times. Cuando les den las ganas. No matter the girl. Something clicks into the place where it should have been and they suddenly want to be the man they think they should be.

A boy would think you deserve better. A man will become that better that you deserve.

Well Megan is bypassing all that shit and loving and having a good time and knows her priorities. She was at least, then she got with that man and got a little cloudy with some understanding but then he showed who he finally was after all. Now she is back on her shit.

I got broken up with before my sister’s wedding, one he was going to go with me to because he told me all this bullshit about how he loved me. And I thought I was done. I was done. He kept smiling at me and making me laugh and tickling me and I became done.

Until suddenly I don’t know what the hell happened to him and said he didn’t want to be in a relationship and he didn’t love me anymore and said he told me he did the for the first time—A MONTH IN MIND YOU—because he “felt it.” And I humiliated my self and cried and begged him to not leave me and to not hang up for the last time—he told me this when I drove to his place and after he asked me to come over, so I had to drive my ass back home bawling then called him numerous time and hanging up and finally trying to hang on through the airwaves for 30 minutes. I hit rock bottom.

I couldn’t breathe right and my chest and heart hurt for weeks.

And now I’m just in my pissed stage. The stage after acceptance. The stage where I remember this fucker’s nasty breath, dirty teeth, narcissism, no-drip looking ass, and his uselessness.

And I’m inspired by women that are illusioned by men. Women who are independent and have always been independent and never really forget who they are but when a man comes into their life and talks all this shit and calls them pretty and makes her love him, she gets disillusioned for what she thought was the better but for what was a shadow. So then she gets illusioned again. And she’s always the winner woman because you are alive when you’re loving but it was just misplaced.

I'm inspired by women who love and who love themselves. Because no matter what that fucking man did to you and said to you, they were dead and you were alive.

Ethan Hawke is a fucking genius because you are never more alive than when you are loving.

Go listen to an Olivia Dean song.

Because bitch, he loved the way I loved him.