I loved them. They believed in me until they started becoming aware. Once they did, I was shunned. They hated me for not making their lives better, for not making them better. But what am I supposed to do? I'm just an observer, a writer of some sort. I gave them everything that they need. I even gave them some that they want. I'm not their puppeteer, hence they have freewill. I can't control their actions. I don't get to decide how they wish to act. Though I'm grateful they do in accord to what I told them but those are just to keep them safe. I never meant them harm of any sorts. So am I the villain? Why am I the one they most hate?
If only they know I can hear and feel all their prayers, their pain, their wishes, their dreams and all sorts of things they say in their darkest of hour, maybe they could've done better.
It's their fault, not mine. This is the truth I would all my heart deny and keep in the deepest part of my very being. It is tragic I cannot make this untrue.
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