"Drama!", "Personal Responsibility!", "Attention whore!", "Stupid cunt!"

Gather 'round my lovelies and idiots alike.

Hoodie has a little story to tell you.

I'm not going to lie and say I don't come here for attention, because I do. Just maybe not for the reasons some of you may think.

By all rights, after what I have survived, I could be in some rubber room somewhere, but I'm not.

And apparently, that offends some of you.

I get it, though. Really, I DO. As long as you keep telling yourself that you're better than me, smarter than me, faster than me, that what happened to me could NEVER happen to you, you can live in the bubble of NeverhappentomeLand.

I will not be sorry for being alive and if that pokes holes in your safe little reality? That is YOUR issue to deal with.

I don't come here for you. I come here for me.

I am here because I have some fucking inspiration to share. There are people out there that GIVE UP, EVERY SINGLE DAY, under far less extenuating circumstances.

I come here for them. I come here for me.

I'm a blunt ass bitch from the motherfucking 'hood, and I keep shit fucking real. Believe it or not, some people actually appreciate that. Some people actually find something in what I have to say and when shit gets bad for them? They find some kind of something in my words that helps them hang on just another day, and to fight a little harder to get up the next day.

And, I'm not sorry for enjoying basking in that.

It is, after all, all I really DO have.

Through all the bleating about personal responsibility and due diligence and stupidity, not one of my detractors has stopped to think about one thing.

I am still alive. My children are still alive. And to be able to accomplish that on a daily basis, for two decades, isn't as fucking easy as you think.

Personal responsibility. I gots it motherfuckers. In goddamn spades.

I have several emails, none linked to my real name. None linked to my real address. I'm not too stupid to know how to ghost fairly well on the internet. I mean, I've only been around since the early 90's.
I also know how to put trackers on all my blogs. You know, IP trackers. As long as I know where my ex lives, I can always tell if he is creeping up on me, because you know, IP addresses. I monitor several accounts this way.

Sometimes, it's a false alarm. Sometimes it isn't.

But I do my due fucking diligence, and I take personal responsibility for my goddamn safety.
In the real world, I do the same motherfucking thing.

The first rule of living in hiding is UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE ANY ACTIVITY ON YOUR CREDIT REPORT.

I'll give you a minute to let that sink in.
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Now, let's look at what that really means, mmk?

That means, no upstanding, verified apartments. Oh, no. THOSE people want to run a credit check. They want to verify I'm a good person. That I'll pay my bills. Except, my ex knows all of my information. As a matter of weirdly ironic fact? Our social security numbers are EXACTLY the same except for the last two digits. I was married to him, so, you know, he knows my mother's maiden name. He knows my first pet. he knows all my identifying information and accessing my report is as easy as signing on to freecreditreport.com. Before you get to prattling on about how THAT is my responsibility, too? I am flagged with ALL of the credit bureaus. I do my due diligence. I take personal responsibility for my safety.

It isn't just an apartment, though. It's a bank account. It's an electric bill in my name. It's a car registration. It's prepaid this, and load-on-cash cards that. I can't have any of these things legitimately. No, that would put me at risk. Does it stop me? Obviously not, because here I am. I do my due diligence to care for myself without much help from anyone. I take personal responsibility for my safety.

I don't ask anyone here for anything.

Rule number two, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES OPEN YOURSELF TO BE PUT ON A MAILING LIST THAT MIGHT BE PURCHASED BY THE WRONG HANDS.

This means no nifty, little discount cards. This means no frills of shopping at Sam's Club, or Costco. And I deal with that. And I don't bitch. I pull up my big girl panties and i deal with it. I do my due diligence. I take personal responsibility. I figure out creative ways to make ends meet without these luxuries. Because make no bones about it, those things ARE luxuries.

So, go ahead and bleat on about drama, due diligence, personal responsibility, stupidity, bad decision making and I'll tell you about grace under pressure.

And? I will never be sorry that my survival offends you, or makes you doubt your own ability to survive under the same circumstances.

I will never be sorry that some of you will never get to experience the joy of being inspired, or having the rare, joyous opportunity to BE AN INSPIRATION.

This is where I came to actually have SOME semblance of a life. I do my due fucking diligence about it.
I'm still kickin', muhfuggah. In. Yo. Face.

I'm sorry your fear makes you hate. I pity you for hating me and people like me, but I won't let it stop me from singing MY beautiful fucking song.

And really? Fuck those that begrudge me that. I've got a big, 'ol, lily white ass, and those that do are more than welcome to kiss it.