Betrayal Trauma: Stabbed With a Smile

Betrayal trauma isn’t just a broken heart.
It’s not some ridiculous Dr.’s note to get you out of responsibilities.
It’s more hard core than the porn your mom made that produced you… (jk, stay with me lol).

It’s being stabbed with a smile.
Like the person holding the knife studied you first,
figured out where it would hurt the most
and twisted it.

It’s like someone broke into your world,
used your trust as the key,
and took everything you built…
everything you were building…
everything you were becoming.

It’s like being awake in a nightmare,
watching it all fall apart,
too stunned to scream.

Mourning a life that should’ve been.
A person that never existed.
A love that lied the whole time.

It’s the numbness that burns,
and the silence that’s loud.

It’s a kind of pain that doesn’t just break you
it rewrites you.
Quietly. Permanently.

There are no words for it,
because it was never just one thing.
It was everything.

It all shattered slowly,
one quiet betrayal at a time.

You wake up one day and realize
the person you loved didn’t just lie to you
they built their comfort on your collapse.

They watched you pour everything
into a life they never planned to keep.

It’s not “he hurt me.”
It’s “he knew.”

It wasn’t an accident.
It was cold. Calculated. Evil.
And they enjoyed it.

They conspired.
Coordinated.
Gossiped.
Laughed.

They rejoiced in your suffering.

Intentionally.
Maliciously.
Methodically.
Executed.

You were never let in on the truth
until the timing was right
for maximum damage and maximum satisfaction.

All while they smiled to your face.
Professed to love you.
Made future plans…
as they bled you dry.

You never had a chance to defend yourself.
They smeared your name
before you could even open your mouth.

Knowingly misrepresented who you are.
Tried to ruin the very foundation of your being
your existence,
your livelihood.

The moment they realized you might speak truth,
they rewrote the story.

First quietly, strategically.
Planting seeds in the minds of people you trusted.

Plotting.
Planning.
Twisting your words.
Resulting to reactive abuse
so later, when you did finally speak,
you’d look like the villain in their script.

The silence that follows feels like it will break you.
You watch yourself function on the outside
while breaking into microscopic pieces underneath.

Your body keeps moving because it has to.
While your soul lays facedown in the wreckage.

You tuck it in.
Tidy up your truth.
Smile with a mouth that tastes like betrayal.
And carry on like a soldier who never enlisted.

Holding a thousand puzzle pieces
from someone else’s game
and they’re all blank.

The human body was never designed
to carry this level of cognitive dissonance.

There’s no closure.
No apology.
Just silence.

Silence from trusting someone too deeply.

He said I love you with a handful of knives.
He didn’t just walk away
he walked away with my tenderness in his back pocket.

My silence, twisted into a weapon he could use later.
My story, still bleeding out,
while he pretended nothing happened.

He didn’t lose me.
He threw me away.

Then threw himself a party with my money,
my things,
my life,
and the lies he told to justify it.

I’m not broken.

I was blindsided.
Betrayed.

But I’m still breathing.

I didn’t just survive him.
I’m becoming undeniable.

This time, he lit a fire he can’t outrun.
With his own words.
His own actions.
His own decisions.
His own hell.

Constantly looking over his shoulder,
scrambling to cover the last lie with the next lie.
Wondering when I’m finally going to reveal it all.

And I am revealing it all.

Because I kept the receipts.
Not because I wanted a way back.
Not to destroy him
he did that to himself.

But because he’s a goddamn idiot.
And it genuinely pleases me
to expose that level of dumbassery.

And more importantly,
to bring awareness and love
to anyone else going through this.

Every gender.
Every culture.
Every generation.

You are not alone.

It will get better.

And if your only satisfaction right now
is picturing yourself sticking your pinky finger
down their peehole
your pinky finger of justice, if you will

just know this:

You’re not alone.
Much love. 🔥✨

-Christina

The Message Never Changed…Not Really

Across every culture, every timeline, every ancient book, every whispered prayer
it’s always been the same:

Live with truth.
Love without agenda.
Choose humility over glitter.
Protect the sacred.
Walk away from the illusions of power, greed, and ego.

But the world? Every era.
Every empire.
Every generation…

Keeps building shiny new distractions.
Keeps calling glitter gold.
Keeps selling lies dressed as salvation.

And because glitter is easy- just like your mom (jk, just making sure you’re still here)
and truth is heavy
the masses keep falling for it.

Over and over.
Century after century.

Anyone who questions it are labeled crazy for seeing too clearly,
Dangerous for refusing to bow…
Difficult for not going along with the charade…
Unstable for choosing heart over hype.

Because they can’t buy you, control you, seduce you, or shame you…
they’ll try to erase you.

Not because you’re wrong.

But because you make their carefully constructed lies tremble.

WTF DID SHE JUST SAY?!!

The Taint Files
Taint nothing but the truth, honey.

The first time I ever heard the word “taint,” I was 19 years old.
Some guy at work cracked a joke, and everyone around me burst into laughter, except me. I didn’t get it.
So I asked.

And I’ll never forget the moment this sweet little old lady leaned over and whispered in my ear:

“Honey… it taint your ass, and it taint your kitty.”

Well.
I guess that sums it up pretty damn nicely.
And apparently… it lives in my brain rent-free now.

So here I am, years later, spiraling into a full-blown metaphorical breakdown of what it means to be tainted.

Because some people?
They really are just… tainted.

Not good.
Not bad.
Just a dark patch between two portals of purpose.

Full of nerve endings.
But no direction.

Taint doing good.
Taint doing bad.
They just taint.

Floating in a weird little void between meaning and mediocrity and calling it growth.

It’s always the ones who taint shit that pretend that they are.
Telling shallow lies to make each other feel safe in their stuckness.

✨ Welcome to the wormhole. ✨

- Christina

WE’RE NOT THE SAME

There’s something you never counted on...
And that’s okay because some people can’t count.

You thought if you lied long enough, manipulated hard enough, and changed the narrative fast enough, the truth would lose its footing.
But here’s the thing:
I never needed to make up a story.
YOU wrote it for me.
And now? I’m just here to read it out loud.

You were taught to conquer.
I was taught to care.
You learned to manipulate.
I learned to protect.

I was raised to value people,
you were raised to value things.
So no…
you and I?
We were never the same.

You said you hated liars, thieves, cheaters, and gossipers.
What you really meant was that you hate when people do those things to you,
because that is EXACTLY who you have become.

You warned me about snakes in the grass, psychos, pathological liars, and manipulators…
Not knowing you were giving me your own biography.

I’m not here to throw dirt.
I’m here to grow the tree you tried to chop down when you thought no one was watching.

Your shame isn’t mine to carry.
Your burdens aren’t mine to hold.
Your mistakes aren’t mine to correct.
Your lies, your choices are your consequences… not mine.

I live my life based on truth.
You live your life based on a fictional story where you’re consistently the hero.

It’s crazy to me that you handed me a narrative so warped and twisted that it was undeniably yours.
I never needed to lie or exaggerate.
The facts alone are so outrageous that no amount of seasoning could make those lies easy to swallow.

I used my voice to speak your lies.
You’re an exceptional storyteller
but not in a way that brings you honor.

My restraint was never weakness.
It was mercy.
And even that has a limit.