Fuck your competitive white weddings, your gross privilege and your soulless social climbing.
Fuck your magical thinking, your visions boards, your overpaid psychics and hack therapists you hire exclusively to relieve you from the guilt of your horrible actions.
Fuck your pseudo creative work and your failed artistic aspirations. You are not an artist, to be generous you may be a craftperson but more likely you are a hack.
Fuck your closet-case fiancé and the blood contract his wealthy family signed so that you can be discarded if he can’t manage to impregnate you.
Fuck your matching hairstyles, your twee crafting decor, your designer wedding dresses and your gross displays of wealth and privilege.
And to expand this little declaration of clarity:
Fuck those who shit on their humble beginnings, who lie about their past, who consider old friends losers and who talk shit about those not driven by spite.
Fuck those who collude with pathological liars and encourage ruthless, cruel ambition. Fuck those who use loved ones as PR tokens.
Fuck those parasites who are willing to not only exploit their workers, but their own loved ones, to desiccate them until a fatter host comes along.
Fuck those willing to exploit their loved ones loyalty and morality, then blame them for not being able to meet them as they level up via .
Fuck those willing to lie about the contributions of their past loved ones to their success, to erase the very people who helped them up into the light.
Fuck those willing to trap their loved ones in financial ruin after stealing from them for years, funneling all their labor into your career and your needs.
Fuck those willing to lie to cover their own fucked up desires, to pretend that their treachery is your fault for giving them permission. Darvo all the way home.
Oh and fuck Martha Stewart, a pathological liar and tyrant in her universe, who coddled her sycophantic gays while abusing female underlings in her company. Who sat there in a documentary and lied about her own marital affair while demonizing the husband she used and abused to climb her way to the top. Whose own daughter absolutely hated her until she too realized she could coast a lot easier by leeching off the very fame seeking that she so resented as a child.
The saddest thing is so many of her desperate and ambitious collaborators will deny this, or become defensive because like abused housewives, they defend the abuser who built them to be the psychopaths they are.
I know we are supposed to respect her, to forgive her as a woman for being as ruthless and cruel as a man.
I beg to differ.
Reflecting the toxicity of your rival is basically drinking their poison and then declaring yourself the winner if you happen to survive long enough to poison others rivals successfully.
I heard that it takes half as many years are your failed relationship to get over it, and indeed it’s taken me 11 years to arrive at this peace, as well as to finally say whatever the fuck I want. I love my life and my husband, who grows beautiful flowers for us and doesn’t have to kill them to enjoy them. I love my land and the wonderful things we are planting and building here.
The best revenge is living well, and I am, but I am also an artist….so here we go.