The feeling of being unheard is an agonizing weight upon my soul. Is death the only way to finally break through this deafening silence? Why is it that my words, my thoughts, my very existence, seem to matter only when they serve the needs and desires of others? Why is it that my voice, my truth, my cries for understanding, are so effortlessly silenced?
I am not the monster they paint me to be. I am not the villain in their self-serving narrative. I am a human being, with a beating heart, with dreams and fears, with hopes and regrets. But in their eyes, I am nothing more than a convenient scapegoat, a vessel for their blame, a target for their scorn.
Now, in the face of their relentless attacks, not even a flicker of hope remains within me. In my death I hope that someday, someone, will see through the lies, will hear my unspoken words, will recognize the truth that lies buried beneath the surface. I have no strength to resist, I must surrender to their twisted game and end my story today.
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