Do you know who the fuck I am?
I am a queen. I am beloved by all. I have an entire army behind me, ready to rain down as holy avengers to defend me. I have created life; nurtured it, curated it. I have tamed beasts others flee from in dread. I am not “entry-level.”
I am different. I’m far from ordinary. I am unique. That is why you were drawn to me. Your lonely soul felt the call of my vibrancy; felt the warmth within. It’s so unfortunate that your ugly ego got in the way, that you are incapable of the remorse to make it right.
I was disappointed, certainly, at the lack of appreciation for the way I embodied an actual goddess that day, but that feeling couldn’t hold a candle to the rage that filled me at the way you spoke to me there at the end, the way you discarded me as if I were nothing, the way you made me beg for a shred of understanding. You, nor any man, will ever treat me that way again. I vow it. My love is a gift, powerful and rare, and it will not be squandered on the undeserving - no matter how long his hair is.
Remain cold. Remain callous. Remain cruel. Remain alone. Tell the next one who “awakens something in you” your enticing stories; draw her in with your need for love and acknowledgment; send her songs that make you seem so deep, so capable of true emotion. I hope she has the self-esteem to cut you off when you deny her feelings, her concerns, her love.
You called me a bitch, and I told you that I wasn’t - but that was a lie. I am THAT bitch, and you will put some respect on my name, or you can join the others who are nothing but dusty memories to me now. I don’t need you; my love is what made you special. You need me. My passion, my acceptance, my vitality. Crave it. Beg for it. Atone for it. That’s the only hope you have of receiving it now.
















