I AM THE VILLAIN.

 

               

You think I didn’t notice, didn’t see it all?

 I watched.

I watched day after day, as it got worse

As it wrapped itself all around me.

pretending I was invisible.

It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it? 

To be wounded so many times that the pain becomes like background noise, just a faint hum at the back of your mind.

 You bleed so often that the red becomes a color you're used to seeing, like a sunset you’ve learned to stop watching. 

And yet, here I stand, alone in the dark by choice this time.

 You could say I’m numb, but that would imply I still feel something. No, I’ve gone further. I’ve stopped caring.

I used to fight back, to scream, to rage against the storm, thinking someone, anyone, would hear me.

 That someone would realize what they’d done what they’d turned me into. 

But they didn’t. People like to pretend they’re heroes, don’t they? 

They love to be saviors in stories where they can walk away clean. 

But when they break you, when they twist you into something unrecognizable, they pretend it was all in your head. 

They tell you it was you who didn’t try hard enough, didn’t forgive enough, didn’t bend enough to keep it all together.

I used to think I was too weak, that it was my fault for being fragile. 

But fragility implies something to protect, something to lose. You can’t break what’s already shattered.

 I see it now clear as day.

 I am the villain in their eyes because I refused to break for them anymore.

 I learned to stop bending, to stop begging for scraps of humanity from people who barely recognized my existence.

 I see the world for what it is, a place where you either hide behind the mask or live with it.

They tell you to be strong, to rise above the hurt.

 But they never tell you that strength sometimes means letting go of the person you once were.

 That sometimes, surviving means becoming the very thing they fear.

I didn’t lose myself. I cut away the parts of me that no longer served a purpose. 

Piece by piece, I let go of the girl who used to cry, the girl who begged for a pinch of love and acceptance like a starving dog. 

That girl is gone.

 I buried her.

I buried her beneath every lie, every betrayal, every broken promise that I stitched together like armor.

Now, I wear my scars as a crown, a reminder that no one gets to define me anymore.

 I stopped being their martyr, stopped playing the victim in a tragedy they wrote for me.

 I chose to walk through the fire, and when it burned away everything soft, everything innocent, I stood in the ashes, no longer afraid of the dark.

So, call me what you want a villain, a monster, a lost cause.

 Your labels mean nothing. 

I am beyond redemption, beyond your narrow understanding of good and evil.

 I am what’s left when the world crushes you enough times that you stop feeling anything at all.

I am the villain.

I am the monster.

I am the shadow .

I am the shadow that sees everything and says nothing. Because now, there is nothing left to say.

I was never weak, but I let myself bend until I snapped.

 The endless manipulation, the hollow promises you thought you could cage me with them.

 So I spat on it all. 

I didn’t need your games anymore; I didn’t need your pretenses.

 I have become something far darker, far more relentless. 

I scorched everything in my path, not because I was driven to madness, but because I chose to. 

I chose to break free and damn them all to the hell they created.

Do you think I was born this way?

 Do you think I wanted to become this? 

No, I became this because you pushed me, all of you.

I played nice, I tolerated your pathetic excuses, your endless betrayals.

But that’s over.

I have chose to rip myself free from your web of lies, and I did it without a second thought. 

I watched your masks fall, and I refused to be a part of your shallow games any longer.

I didn’t crawl out of the fire you threw me into I walked through it and came out burning. And now? 

Now, I’ll burn everything down if I have to. Don’t confuse this with bitterness or rage. 

No, this is something much worse. 

This is clarity.

 You made me believe kindness was weakness, and now I’ve turned that weakness into something you can’t touch.

 You think I'm the villain?

 You're damn right I am, but not because you made me one. 

I looked at the mess, at all of you, and I chose to become it.

So I am the villain because I made myself one.