You now feel numb,
though slightly irritated.
But what's the point anyway?
So you mind your own business.
Then life goes on.
But still—
no matter what you do,
no matter how patient or understanding
you've been,
no—you've become,
the world just keeps pushing you.
And when you do snap—
or at the very least, speak out,
complain a little—
just a little bit,
you become the villain—
painted ugly,
damned for all they care,
because for one—
one single moment,
you dared to look out for yourself,
to put yourself first,
to finally care for you.
It isn’t called preservation—
it isn’t called self-love—
it’s called greed,
resentment, ungratefulness—
or whatever ugly word
they can think of.
To them,
you became not just a monster—
but the monster.
And you have—
you can never have—
any say.
Shunned into silence.
But maybe—
just maybe—
it isn’t you who has to change.
Maybe it’s the world who has to—
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