and i hope you find this when i die
and i know you don't care, because the story you chose feels better than the truth
and i know you don't care, because righteous anger is easier than listening
you made me the villain before you knew my name
turned public moments into private mythology, facts into folklore
twisted everything i said into confirmation of what you'd already decided
because nuance is inconvenient when you've already sharpened your knives
you call it justice but it's just performance
a feeding frenzy dressed up in the language of accountability
you don't want facts, you want a target
someone to punish so you can feel powerful, feel clean, feel aroused by your own cruelty
i tried to explain, tried to show you what actually happened
but you don't want complexity, you want a monster
and i've learned that once you're cast, the role is permanent
no evidence matters, no context counts, no humanity remains
you say you're protecting people, creating safety
but you've just found a socially acceptable way to destroy someone
to ruin a life and call it activism, to isolate someone and call it boundaries
to spread poison and call it spreading awareness
and the ones who know better, who saw what really happened?
they stay silent, because speaking up means becoming the next target
so i'm alone with the truth while you build monuments to your lies
while you bond over hating me, while my pain becomes your entertainment
so yes, i hope you rot
i hope the same casual cruelty you showed me finds you when you're vulnerable
i hope you're accused of something you didn't do and no one believes you
i hope you learn what it feels like to be erased by people who never cared about truth
i hope the communities you poisoned against me turn on you next
because that's what you've built- a machine that devours
and eventually it will be hungry again
and you'll understand, finally, what you did to me
but you still won't care
because even then, you'll find a way to make yourself the victim
just like you made yourselves the heroes of my destruction
and i know you don't care, because my absence makes things easier
and i know you don't care, because you never had to notice me anyway
i've learned to read the slight delays, the way eyes drift past me like I'm furniture
how conversations reshape themselves around the space i occupy
the particular silence that follows when i speak—not hostile, just hollow
like my words dissolve before they can land
i watch you laugh with each other, effortless and warm
and when i approach it's like the air changes temperature
everyone still smiling but the smiles are different now
tighter, performing continuation of something that already ended
you say i'm welcome, that i'm included
but inclusion isn't the same as belonging
and i can feel how much easier your breath comes when i leave the room
how the energy returns, how you become yourselves again
i've become so fluent in reading what people don't say
the "we should hang out sometime" that dissolves into nothing
the plans made around me, the inside jokes i'm always outside of
the way i've learned to make myself smaller, quieter, less
and the worst part isn't the hostility- i could fight that
it's the indifference dressed up as politeness
the tolerance that feels like holding your breath
the civility that costs you something and makes sure i know it
so i leave, and i know you don't care
because my leaving is just the formalization of an absence you already created
and i'm tired of haunting spaces where i was never really alive