RUMOR HAS IT (I’M FASCINATING) ✨

By Melissa Holm

A takedown, mostly for me, but kind of for her

None three are innocent, except me…

Kidding there are parts I regret too.

——-

Someone told me today they didn’t believe the rumors about me.

Which is adorable.

Because that means there are rumors.

Which means… I’ve made it.

Apparently, I’m a storyline now.

A myth. A misunderstood sensation.

A cautionary tale with good cheekbones.

Naturally, I said,

“How hurtful that there are even rumors.”

(Not dramatic at all. Very poised. I probably deserved an Oscar.)

Anyway, I still don’t know what the rumors are.

Which is the most offensive part.

Like—if you’re going to spin a whole tale, at least include me in the writers’ room.

I’ve got plot points. I’ve got receipts.

I’ve got the full arc.

Last week, this broke my heart.

(Yes, I have one of those. It’s been duct-taped back together since 2018.

Shoutout to my ride-or-dies from back then—you know.

We don’t talk about it, but also we do.)

Update for the uninitiated:

The guy from then? Yeah. We had a sit-down.

January 2024.

Tears. Ownership. Forgiveness.

The kind of thing that doesn’t trend, but heals actual galaxies.

We’re quiet friends now. And I mean real friends.

So sorry if that ruins anyone’s plot twist.

Anyway—back to the gossip.

This week, I’m not sad.

This week, I’m intrigued.

I’ve been me the whole time,

and yet… somewhere out there,

someone decided I was too Melissa to leave alone.

How flattering.

I probably wouldn’t have known about any of it

if I hadn’t been uninvited to a party.

(Sincerely—thank you.

Sometimes the universe needs a tacky little breadcrumb

to get your girl caught up.)

Now I’m finding bits and pieces.

Some things are probably true.

Others?

Lukewarm grievances disguised as scandal.

And listen,

if your beef with me is that I didn’t contort myself into something digestible?

That’s not a scandal. That’s a personal problem.

And if you really want to know what happened—

like really want the truth?

Come with courage.

I’ll show you the ugly.

I’ll show you what I got wrong.

I’ll show you the entire story,

screenshots and all.

(I’m not out here protecting a brand—I’m not a soda.)

But let’s be real:

I probably won’t do that.

Not because I’m scared—

because I’m free.

And freedom doesn’t need to defend itself.

I’m just here.

Letting the truth do what it does:

unfold.

Without panic.

Without PR.

Just… Melissa.

Same damn Melissa I always be.

Rumor has it 😌

⸻

Again, I probably won’t…

But I might.

Then again—nah.

But… maybe.

I don’t know yet.

But now I kind of feel like I have to outdo

the man who can’t stop posting passive-aggressive memes

he doesn’t even write

about narcissistic women.

(Also? He’s not even talking about me.

He’s talking about my ex-friend—

the one who got into a bigger kerfuffle with him

than I am even capable of.

Bless their drama.)

But come on…

We can’t all be narcissists.

Me, her, the ex-wife (allegedly).

Statistically speaking,

someone’s got to be the common denominator.

And… him?

Responsible for nothing.

Except pursuing two ex-friends,

then hiding one from the other,

telling me he valued privacy—

while continually posting memes about narcissistic women who play victim and inspiring dad posts and videos religiously themed

What a scheme

What’s funny is he posted the meme I did

About how hated Facebook accounts.

He posts all that to bug her on purpose

And that’s part of what he told me

But Bro, I win.

Yeah, she can totally hate yours the most…

But compared to mine…

Yours is baby boys dream.

You chose this…

From the mouth of four different sources

Of the truth you distorted

Of my name that

slipped from his mouth—

because they don’t know the other girl,

so he needed someone to blame.

He played game

Same man who, on day one,

told me not to post or tell anyone we were talking

because he was “very private.”

To which I replied:

“I’m not going to be your dirty little secret you hide from *name redacted.”

(You know the name. Redacted anyway.)

And yet—

we had three weeks of date nights,

perfume gifts,

parking lot makeouts,

BBQ hangs,

even a picture of me on his phone.

(A cute one, too)

His friends were hilarious.

That was the true loss in his little scheme—

they were likable.

between the narcissistic memes,

he’s also religious.

So of course—none of it was his fault.

He just tripped into the emotional minefield

he personally planted.

No way any of this was him…

Not on account of his sainthood

Also, Ninja Turtles: they are her favorite

Sharks too.

So, the cover photo, the shark meme

Given what’s recently happened between the two…

Is just a little bit ew…

Scary

Now, my loyalties are to no one, but my integrity

If she lied about him: I’d say something

But, what he is insinuating about her

Making him the victim

Antagonizing her

Creating loops unprovable slander

With his pretend Halo

That’s a hell no

She also doesn’t deserve that foo

SO I HAD TO DO THIS

Honestly?

He probably wishes I were a narcissist.

I wouldn’t be so deep, clever, insightful and basically a Bad Ass Bitch

But I’m not.

And. He. Knows. That. Strong.

If you don’t denies it

I’ll send you the texts that prove him wrong

I’m something more dangerous:

Compassionate.

Clever.

Ruthless, to correct

And completely unbothered by image maintenance.

Especially when it comes to karmic correction.

Did I mention—

I’ve got moxie that won’t quit.

I was designed sacred.

To clown.

To reflect.

To hand him his own vibration

in the key he most wants to avoid.

I’m a Heyoka.

Look it up.

That’s the rumor.

And that one’s true.

And here’s the thing:

You don’t clown

with the sacred clown

without going down.

It didn’t have to be that way.

But he made it that way.

Probably all because I was in the same room after—

completely unbothered.

Tolerant.

Actually?

I didn’t care.

By the time I saw him again, I was done.

But he couldn’t stand being ignored.

Because I was the same damn Melissa

I always am.

And then they kerfuffled again.

(Bless their drama.)

I was minding my business.

But he brought me in it.

Or the universe did.

To win it.

(And honestly? The universe thinks it’s hilarious.)

None of my 2018 Facebook loyalists knew him,

so no one warned him about me.

And now—

I’m pissed.

Because today I heard from a fourth source

about the self-serving monolith of subtle slander

he planted about me

and watered…

while I said nothing of what I know.

He keeps posting vaguely.

And no one realizes—

it’s actually not about me.

It’s about her.

Sorry they’re a match made in hot mess heaven.

I’m done.

I’ve won.

He should’ve been more careful

with me.

Because my Facebook?

Got more eyes on it than he thinks.

And I’ve been tasked to serve this truth up

real nice.

He should have thought twice.

Because I’m the writer.

More clever than he.

This whole poem?

Took only an hour from me.

The Heyoka.

I was built for this.

And honestly?

I just wouldn’t mess with me.

Ask anyone who was here in 2018.

This is the end.

Of me being squashed in anyone’s toxic karma.

I came to shake, stir, and shift.

Then slip back into dharma.

That’s why their souls crossed paths with me.

The Heyoka-ass Queen.

And I could spend more time on this talking about me

But, I prefer to speak on my curiosities

My abstract theories

Some 36-year-old Girl’s life is so boring to

Me

If I spent too much time on obsessing about anyone else, I’d get a hobby

And when one is transparent

And with them both

my intentions were true

And from my face, to my space alignment comes through

I say what I mean and I mean what I do

And I trust as adults they could too

and by the evidence of the people that have spoken to me about it (before I starting delivering the Facebook decrees)

I know a few things:

You believe people are

The behaviors you do

So,

Whatever traits, intentions assigned to me

Are giving me too much credit

But, whatever that does to me, I’ll let it

Because I’m bored now of me

So I don’t get it

But,

Rumor Had It

I’m Fascinating