My Ex

Rock Bottom Royalty

This is victory in its rawest, nastiest form.
Not flowers and closure — just booze, spit,
and the kind of emotional purging that happens
when you finally say “fuck that bitch” and mean it.
The floor’s sticky, the sink’s clogged,
and your stomach’s trying to turn itself inside out —
but you’re free. And that makes this mess beautiful.

This is what healing looks like when it’s powered by PBR, rage,
and three months of held-in yelling.
It’s loud. It’s unfiltered. It smells like tequila and relief.
This ain’t heartbreak anymore — it’s revenge.
It’s a farewell performance for a toxic past,
screamed into a crusty mirror in the worst bathroom in the county.

You’re not crying. You’re laughing between dry heaves.
You’re remembering every lie, every passive-aggressive text,
every night spent wondering if you were the problem.
Spoiler: you weren’t.
And now? Now you’re blowing all that bullshit straight into the drain.

This shirt isn’t about feeling better — it’s about knowing you deserve better.
It’s about celebrating the fact that even at your absolute worst,
you’re still cleaner, classier, and more fucking loyal
than the one who left you questioning your sanity.

It’s not sad. It’s savage.
It’s not heartbreak. It’s a comeback —

covered in puke and powered by rage.

Fuck closure. Embrace carnage.