"Let’s get one thing straight: betrayal doesn’t just shatter your heart—it fucking scorches your soul. People love to talk about heartbreak like it’s some poetic little tragedy, but the truth is, when someone you trusted stabs you in the back, it’s a whole different kind of hell. It’s not just your chest that aches. It’s your spirit that gets dragged through the mud, left for dead, and somehow expected to come out shining. Spoiler: you come out harder, not brighter.

Betrayal is a goddamned scar, a permanent tattoo burned onto your mind. Nobody talks about the way it changes you. Not just for a week, or a month, but for fucking ever. You don’t just wake up one day and say, “Oh, I’m fine now.” Nope. That shit is a fog—a fucking poison cloud—that lingers in the basement of your soul no matter how many times you try to air out the place.

It’s funny how the people who betray you always act surprised when you don’t just “get over it.” Like, sorry if I’m not ready to hold hands and sing kumbaya after you ripped the ground out from under me. I don’t forgive and forget—I remember every damn detail. I keep receipts, darling. I frame them and hang them on the wall of my memory.

Don’t get it twisted: I’m not bitter, I’m just not a fucking doormat. I learned the hard way that some people will smile to your face while sharpening their knives behind your back. And when those knives finally land, it’s not just trust that bleeds—it’s every soft part of you that believed in something real. That changes a woman. It turns your kindness into armor and your love into a weapon.

You want to know what betrayal really does? It wakes up the savage in you. The bitch who doesn’t take shit anymore. The woman who laughs a little colder and walks a little taller. You don’t get to break me and then act surprised when I come back with fire in my veins and steel in my bones. You fucking created this version of me—congratulations.

They say time heals all wounds. That’s a nice fairytale for people who haven’t been gutted from the inside out. Time doesn’t heal betrayal. You just learn to live with the taste of smoke in your lungs, the echo of lies in your head, and the coldness that settles in your bones. You adapt. You evolve. You don’t get softer—you get sharper.

Let’s be real: betrayal is a mindfuck. It’s not just the act itself—it’s the realization that you were played. That you gave your trust to a snake. That you poured your love into a fucking sieve. That’s the shit that keeps you up at night, replaying every conversation, every sign you missed, every damn red flag you painted white.

You never really forget, do you? It’s there in the way you second-guess every new friendship, every lover, every promise. It’s there in the way you flinch when someone gets too close. It’s there in the way you guard your heart like it’s a goddamn crown jewel—because it fucking is, and you refuse to let another thief get close.

Betrayal teaches you to trust yourself and no one else. Your gut becomes your gospel. You stop ignoring your instincts, stop giving people the benefit of the doubt. You become your own protector, your own damn hero. If that makes me a bitch, so be it. I’d rather be a bitch than a victim.

I’m not here to sugarcoat anything for anybody. Betrayal fucking hurts. It changes you. It darkens your soul and makes you question everything you ever believed about people. But it also makes you powerful. It builds a woman who’s unbreakable, untouchable, and unapologetically fierce.

People think they can break you and you’ll just go back to being sweet. Nah. I’m sweet like arsenic now. I’ve got honey in my veins and venom on my tongue. I’m not the girl you can lie to twice. I’m not the woman who’ll let you walk all over her. I’m the storm you never saw coming.

Let’s not pretend I’m sad about the changes. I love this new version of me. The one who’s not afraid to walk away, to slam doors, to set boundaries and build walls. I’ve earned my attitude. I’ve earned my sass. I’ve earned the right to say “fuck you” to anyone who tries to dim my light.

If my trust is a fortress now, it’s because you tried to burn it down. If my love is guarded, it’s because you taught me people don’t always mean what they say. If my kindness comes with a warning label, it’s because I know what happens when you give too much to the wrong people.

Betrayal doesn’t just hurt—it transforms. It turns heartbreak into holy rage, pain into power, scars into shields. I’m not here to play nice. I’m here to rule my world, to protect my energy, to be a bitch when I need to be. And if that makes people uncomfortable, they’re welcome to leave.

So, to anyone who thinks betrayal is something you just “move on” from: fuck that. I don’t move on—I level up. I don’t let go—I learn. I don’t forget—I evolve. My pain is my passport to strength. My scars are my battle cry. My darkness is my crown.

If you ever wonder why I don’t trust easily, why I don’t open up, why my love comes with conditions—remember, you’re not seeing a wounded woman. You’re seeing a survivor. You’re seeing a queen who rebuilt her throne from the ashes of her own damn destruction.

And if you think you can break me again, try me. I dare you. I’ve already walked through fire. I’ve already lived with the fog of betrayal haunting my mind. I know what it’s like to be left for dead and come back swinging. You don’t scare me. Nothing does anymore.

Betrayal may have darkened my soul, but it didn’t kill my fire. If anything, it made me burn brighter, wilder, and more unapologetically than ever before. So, here’s to the pain that made me who I am. Here’s to the darkness that taught me how to shine. And here’s to every bitchy, sassy, cocky woman who refuses to let betrayal define her, but instead, uses it as fucking rocket fuel."

-Steve De'lano Garcia