Dear you lot.

To the ones who left me to rot,

There are no words sharp enough to carve out what I feel for you, but I’ll try — because silence hasn’t screamed loud enough.

I fucking despise you. Every single one of you. I don’t just hate you — hate is too soft, too human. What I feel is colder than that. It’s the kind of loathing that seeps into marrow, that poisons every thought. You abandoned me — not by accident, but by choice. You watched me fall apart and you chose to look away. You chose your comfort, your pride, your fucking image over me.

And what kills me is that I ever expected more. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I believed in blood. I believed that family meant something. But when it mattered — when I was drowning, choking on my own breath, begging for something, anything — you disappeared. You disappeared. You left me to die quietly while you lived loudly.

Not one of you checked in. Not one of you even pretended to care. You were too busy enjoying your pretty little lives while I was crawling through hell on torn knees, screaming into the void. Do you know what that does to someone? To realize they mean absolutely nothing to the people they bled for?

And now you’ll read this — maybe — and call it “anger,” call it “overreaction.” But this isn’t just anger. This is truth. This is the aftermath of betrayal so deep it cracked something permanent inside me.

I don’t forgive you. I will never forgive you. I hope you choke on the silence you served me. I hope you live long enough to be broken in the same way — completely, cruelly, and with no one left to call. And when that moment comes — and it will — I hope you remember this. Not my pain. Not my name. Just the echo of my absence.

I carry this hate like armor. It keeps me upright. It keeps me breathing. And I swear on every scar you left me with — I will carry it until the end. There is no healing. No peace. Not for me. And sure as hell, not for you.

You don’t deserve closure. You deserve the same godless silence you gave me.