People can be nosy asses

You're that motherfucker who fucked up everything—yeah, you. Every time you got curious, every time your nosy ass leaned in and looked at my screen, you chipped away at me. You saw my quotes, my affirmations, the shit I wrote to keep my head above water, and you fucking stole them. You made them your own like you earned that pain, like you lived that struggle. Bitch, you didn’t live my struggle. You took my three-year plan, my blueprints, and you twisted them into something for your own goddamn profit. I worked my ass off in school—every late night, every lonely grind—and you knew exactly what the fuck I was trying to build. And instead of supporting me, you watched me fall. I had no job for two months, no money, no peace, and I didn’t even want to hit my professor back because I felt like no one wanted me in the room anyway. Like I was fucking invisible. I was blocking people left and right, hurting myself just to feel like I had control again. And even then, I knew work was everything to me—it’s how I breathe. But you—you kept watching, kept judging, like your eyes had the right to audit my pain. Judgment day’s coming, motherfucker. And when it does, you’ll have to face me, and worse—you’ll have to face yourself.

My Pain

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