I see you. The way you band together, feeding off each otherâs bitterness, inventing reasons to dislike me just so you can all feel a little less empty for a few minutes. Congratulations, youâve managed to push me to the point where I cry after work more often than Iâd like to admit. But hereâs the part you donât seem to understand: tears are not defeat. They are release. And every morning, I still get up, I still show up, and I still carry on.
Your cruelty isnât power. Itâs boredom. Itâs desperation. Itâs the sad glue holding together a group of people too jealous, too insecure, or too hollow to find joy anywhere else. And it shows.
You can keep your whispered alliances, your eye rolls, your little games. But know this: you donât own me. You donât get to take my life, my sense of self, or my future. I need this job, yes, but that need does not give you power over me. It only reveals how little power you truly have, if breaking someone down is the best you can do with your days.
Grow up. Get a life. Because you canât have mine.
Signed,
Someone Stronger Than Youâll Ever Be
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