The Message

To all the fake friends, pretentious co-workers, and others I've encountered over the years, including exes and those who claim(ed) to "love and care about me". To all those who assum(ed) they knew exactly who I am and what "type" of person I am based almost entirely on my immutable characteristics, a smattering of mostly superficial conversations and "small talk", and the details I have decided to share about my past:

Fuck y'all.

"Why don't you just go home and be with your family?"
"Your mom's so nice. I wish my mom was as nice as your mom."
"Why didn't you just squeeze your legs together a bit harder?"
"Why did you stay if you were getting the shit beat out of you?"
"Why didn't you 'just say no'?"
"You should have made better 'choices'!"
"You should have followed the teachings of the bible and heeded the word of God!"
"Jesus is the answer!"
"Mohammad is the answer!"
"Pull up your socks!"
"No one gets a 'free pass' in life. You're just going to have to do better, be better, work harder, do more, try harder, bend over backwards more, prove yourself, prove your worth, prove your value, show us you care, give more, listen more, learn more, educate yourself!" (How much more? When will it be enough? When will I be enough?)

I've never gotten a free fucking pass for anything. I've worked my fucking ass off for everything I have. No one bestowed any great gifts upon me. Heck, the only time anyone ever even bought me a drink in a bar was when I was working a shift. Maybe other women have some magical ability to get men (or women) to buy them shit, but I have never done anything for any man or woman in exchange for money, food, drinks, extra wages, promotions, or anything else. I never have and never will do any kind of "favours" for any man or woman in exchange for money or things or anything else. I am not interested in "getting ahead in life" in that manner. I am only interested in working legitimately and making my money "above the table".

So to all you fake friends, losers, posers, and haters:
None of you guys have a fucking clue. Y'all a bunch of fuckin' idiots. Too fucking full of yourselves and your own narrow fucking view of how people "should" be and act in situations.
Think y'all would make the "right" decisions and taken the "correct" actions if you were in my shoes and faced with the same circumstances.

I sincerely wish y'all the very best as you continue along on your Galaxy Express train ride straight to hell. Enjoy the cold, dark, and lifeless nothingness of the abyss motherfuckers.

*Addendum*
Date: 09 October 2023
Time: 1840 Pacific Standard Daylight Time
Purpose: SPECIAL edit in recognition of Thanksgiving Day, which is the second Monday of October each year here in Canada

A very special message to my ex-husband, Kelly Guy Burton from Manitoba, Canada, DOB: May 28, 1965🖕🖕 Get bent you disgusting motherfucking stinky ass pig. I hope you crash your precious Harley Davidson motorcycle, get flung off the edge of a fucking cliff, violently smash into the rocks below, and break every single bone in your decrepit old body.

You sent me some stupid fucking text about how you were going to get together with my ex boyfriend, Ryan Andrew Hake, DOB: August 16, 1978🖕🖕, who tried to fucking kill me, and basically ruin my life and make it hell. I don't remember your exact fucking words, but I was so tired of being threatened about you selling the condo and locking me out and leaving me with nothing at all and no place to go. I blocked your number after that. I was fucking exhausted after 15 years of being held as a fucking prisoner while you tried to make me into a person I couldn't be but you wanted me to be for your own selfish needs.

You didn't fucking care, you never cared, it was all a fucking lie. I tried to resolve a fair agreement over text messages, but it was never enough for you. You said, my dad has been involved with these things and let me tell you how thngs work in a divorce. You got all the money, all the investments, the car, your precious fucking Harley, pension, benefits. I had to take all the debt. Pay off your credit card debt, take on all the money owed on the line of credit, the mortgage. I didn't ask for any part of your pension or benefits or anything from your work even though I was entitled to do so and my lawyer, Samantha Rapoport1 was shocked I didn't want any of it. I just wanted to be away from you at any cost. I only requested to keep the condo, which was not even halfway paid off, because there were 4 cats and I didn't know of anywhere in the city that I could go that would rent to me woth 4 cats. I gave you permission to take anything you wanted in the condo except for my video games, my comic books, and other video game/anime/manga/comic book collectibles. You came and got all the Ducks Unlimited art and trashed the rest of what was in the storage locker. You had over a year to get whatever else you wanted, but you didn't bother after you trashed it all, including me and my name to all my friends and family.

💧💦
You stupid motherfucker. You too, Wyatt Chudy. I opened my heart and my pockets to help you and your son out and all you did was screw me over and clean me out. Then, you sent me some stupid Facebook message slandering me and implicating me as being an accomplice in a murder case. I even got hauled in by the police in Langford (698 Atkins Ave, Langford, BC) because of either you or my ex-husband trying to indict me on some sort of bullshit charges. You know what they threw down as evidence? My fucking Dr Seuss poem on Ketamine2 that I wrote for an assignment while I was in university. Cop throws my poem in front of me on the table and asks, "what can you tell me about this?"

I looked at him and was like, wtf, it's a poem. Didn't realize writing poetry was a crime. I was interrogated for probably an hour or so and questioned about a fucking poem!

That is all.
🙏🏼

Footnotes
1  https://bhmlawyers.ca/team-2/samantha-rapoport/
2  https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2219899-Ketamine