You

You attack the symptom and not the catalyst.

You criticise the result and expect everyone to overlook your contributions towards it.

You pretend to be concerned but then actively demean us in the process.

You're a liar who doesn't want to face their own truth.

I hate you for it, and I hate myself more for putting up with it.

You're a hypocrite who is shielded from consequences due to your class, not your actions.

You're a tyrant who can't be convinced of anything you haven't already concocted for your own headcanon.

You want me to live in your reality.

You want me to make up for your shortcomings.

I expected you to change.

Expecting that my humiliation will get easier over time.

Expecting that you can operate in my vicinity without your enjoyment coming at my expense.

Before I open my eyes, I'm devastated at my own survival.

Because if I choose to go, I'm accepting defeat in your eyes.

And if I choose to stay, I welcome my perpetual misery.

Because when I choose to die, I can't be useful to you anymore.

If I chose to stay, you wouldn't have the choice.

When my memories that I failed to archive are lost

You'll sweep your own under the rug

Because if anyone else were able to see what you've been doing

You'd be the one writing this grievance right now.

And the only reason you are still alive and I'm not

Is because I still had a conscience.