I see you. The way you band together, feeding off each other’s bitterness, inventing reasons to dislike me just so you can all feel a little less empty for a few minutes. Congratulations, you’ve managed to push me to the point where I cry after work more often than I’d like to admit. But here’s the part you don’t 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 isn’t power. It’s boredom. It’s desperation. It’s 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 don’t own me. You don’t 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 can’t have mine.
Signed,
Someone Stronger Than You’ll Ever Be
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