AITAH for writing and sharing one of my writings
I write poetry and lyrics. Mainly about my own experiences.
Like the one of my wife having a friend that encouraged my wife to cheat because she was herself.
The poem in question
“Funny thing about bad advice…
It usually sounds a lot better
coming from somebody
who needs you to make the same mistakes they did.
Got real brave with a coward in your ear,
telling you betrayal ain’t betrayal if the reason sounds sincere.
She said, “You deserve better,” while she’s sneaking on her own,
giving relationship advice with three numbers in her phone.
That’s rich.
Taking morals from somebody who misplaced theirs,
letting somebody with a wreck tell you how to make repairs.
She normalized the lying ’cause admitting it was wrong
meant looking at herself and seeing where that guilt belonged.
See, misery loves company, but cheaters need witnesses,
somebody else doing it makes it feel legitimate.
So she handed you excuses, you wore ’em like they fit,
and every time she crossed a line, you moved yours next to it.
What kind of friend helps you destroy what chose you?
Calls it “living your life” while the consequence owns you?
What kind of friend sees a good thing and gets nervous?
Maybe watching you stay loyal made her question her purpose.
So—
“Girl, he’ll never know.”
“Girl, you only live once.”
“Girl, if he was doing enough, you wouldn’t need someone.”
Funny how the advice always protects what she’s done.
She wasn’t setting you free.
She was recruiting someone.
Now two guilty consciences can call each other queens,
rewrite what happened till betrayal sounds clean.
Tell each other, “We’re not bad, we were missing something.”
Nah.
You had something.
You just listened to someone
who couldn’t stand seeing you keep
what she keeps fucking up.
Every excuse had fingerprints that weren’t yours,
but your hand was still the one that opened the door.
And don’t get it twisted—I’m not giving her the blame
for decisions that you made when you stepped into that game.
She encouraged it? Sure.
You still chose it.
She handed you the match—
you’re the one who fucking lit it.
She told you cheating was healing?
You believed it.
Then came home to somebody faithful
and deceived him.
That’s the part they leave out in the group chat celebration:
betrayal ain’t empowerment just because it gets validation.
A room full of people saying wrong is right
doesn’t turn a knife into anything but a knife.
Now look at the company you chose to keep close—
everybody giving advice from the relationships they broke.
Everybody screaming “toxic” at the ones they betrayed,
everybody playing victim when the receipts get displayed.
You became what they applauded.
They became your defense.
Now accountability sounds like disrespect.
That’s convenient as hell—
build a circle where nobody can judge
because everybody’s hands are dirty enough.
So keep the friends who taught you love has loopholes.
Keep calling betrayal “finding yourself” if that soothes you.
But when all of them disappear when their own lives implode,
remember who was beside you before they showed you that road.
Because the company you kept
convinced you to hurt
the company that chose you.
And maybe that’s the coldest part—
they didn’t teach you how to cheat.
They just made you feel less guilty…
for already wanting to.”
AITAH?