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« on: April 21, 2016, 11:57:15 pm »
My smile twists into a form of morbid, plaintive fascination. My thoughts jumbled, between states of betrayal, of pity, and of revenge. "I have done nothing wrong," I rationalize. A mere financial boon, given to me as part of a reward by someone I no longer care about, was used against me. The devils must be laughing.
They once said, "Stow away whatever prize you gain, as that is indeed due to you, for them being the fuckers they are." So I did. But a mere call, and some information that god-knows-I-didn't-tell anyone come out, and I am left puzzled.
"How did they know so much? Who told them (a majority of which are lies) these statements? Why can't they ever disclose the name of someone when their own child is suffering from misplaced abuse from their own siblings?!"
I grope around for knowledge. I grope around for facts that they owe, but am incapable of piecing together. I do not have all the answers. I do not have all the reasons. I am in a panic. I get blamed anyway.
"You fucker! You traitor! You must have called them when you were going home after you were scolded for lackluster performance! I am separating ties with you! Get out of my sight, or else I will kill you on the spot!"
I am distraught. "I have done nothing. I have done nothing wrong. Why is everything being affixed to me."
"They already betrayed me once. They can do it again," they say.
The sheer doubt generated from the event, I am no longer sure whether I should still be alive, if I should just kill myself, or if I should make them pay for accusing me of something I didn't do. I am torn. I cannot exact revenge; that would make me an ingrate, because they have done a lot. But consider this: they have also readily and conveniently disposed of me at the earliest notice, at a mere thought of me possibly having back-stabbed them.
I am in a flux, in which I am torn, and reintegrated in a chaotic whole, at every single moment. I want to live, and want to die.
I was never deserving of any of these accusations.