Whispering on election night

I’m as close as one of your cell phones or email addresses.

At any point and time you have the ability right now to find out how I’m doing, how I really feel about you beyond the fact that I love you and support you even when you piss me off.

You chose to render me silent to you, and since I do believe in consent, I have followed my principles to the letter and stopped communicating to you, directly.

You keep coming to this blog with your VPN account to avoid being caught looking and Facebook with your dog’s account like I can’t tell who the fuck is blowing up my social media.

I see you.

But what will you do WHEN I shut down my posts here and put my Facebook on private again?

When I start up my new accounts how will you find me if I don’t provide a digital trail?

When I stop talking about you and I’ve completely moved on to such an extent that you are never mentioned?

Does it mean I’ve forgotten about you?

Well, you don’t talk to me now, and I don’t talk about you to anyone in this area except for one person.

WHEN s/he decides to stop carrying your emotional baggage and finally tells you to find out my status on your own like a grown man with balls, then what are you going to do?

You keep thinking you can hold on to that unhealthy dynamic of you dumping your emotional issues on other people, mainly women without a true exchange and expecting us to do it all without even lifting a finger. And then wondering why almost all your relationships with women go sour. I’m at least willing to work with you to help you develop a different approach. But you have to want it, and you have to make the first move because you made it impossible for me to do that with your issues.

The only person stopping you from getting what you really want is YOU.

I’m right here, enjoying my lovely, slimmer, healthier body and mind. I know my worth, and I don’t beg men or women to love me.

Of course, the question remains: do you really want me to continue to air out our relationship issues to the whole planet because your panties are in a twist about not being able to control me or gaslight me into silence after giving me the silent treatment?


I’m already assumed to be disposable trash, so I don’t give a fuck.

You, on the other hand, created such a narrow passage about what being you means, how you look, sound, etc., with very little room to be human or different from the ruling class.

How can you say you are just trying to human when you don’t allow me to be human as well? When positive in your eyes means my pain and my voice is not for human ears, least of all yours? That may not be your intent, but that’s how you come across with that Black Respectability bullshit that I refuse to absorb.

I reject the entirety of the Cult of True Womanhood, Cult of Southern Womanhood, Cult of Domesticity, and the Cult of Mary, which pretty much means I don’t allow men or women to put me in a box where I smile and endure like some evangelical wife who tries not to bring attention to the fact that her husband treats her like a rock to drag around. I don’t need a man to have a house to live in.

Why are you stuck in the 19th century when it comes to women?