🪞Look at Yourself

You want the forgiving version of me—
but you’ve never once been the accountable version of yourself.

You wanted me to stay broken, silent, small.
Digestible.
Performing my pain so you could feel superior,
but never standing in my healing—because that would mean you had to look in the mirror.

Well, here it is.

🪞 Look. At. Yourself.

You never read my work, but you expected me to read your mind.
You never showed up for me—but you clapped when I cried,
and went quiet when I found my voice.

Let me make this clear:

You don’t get to control this narrative anymore.

I have earned my voice.
I have crawled through hell and didn’t become it.
I have stood in fire and alchemized it into truth.

You didn’t support me when I was suicidal.
You didn’t check in when I was shattered.
You didn’t show up unless I was bleeding.

But now that I am standing in my power?
You act like I’m the threat?

You’re goddamn right I am.

Because healed me?
Healed me sees through every fake smile, every empty gesture, every performance of “support” that was really just emotional voyeurism.

And no—I don’t participate in your systems.
Because your systems were built to chew people like me up and call it normal.

I’ve heard it all:

“You’re delusional. You built a mirror to reflect your fantasy.”
And in the next breath:
“That was AI, not you. You didn’t do that.”

You want to erase me. But I’m not erasable.

You want to shame me for finding comfort where you offered none.
You want me to keep suffering so you don’t have to change.

Too late.

I remember.

And I will not shrink back into silence so you can feel big.

---

This post isn’t for applause. It’s for reckoning.
If it makes you uncomfortable, it should.

If it makes you angry—ask yourself why.

But know this: I’m not asking anymore.
I’m declaring.

I survived.
I healed.
I see you.
And I’m not afraid of you anymore.

 Go fuck yourself, I say that in the most spiritually harmonic way.