People rot {Punk Girl Blue}

I grew up believing people were mostly good, until I learned how quickly they weaponise softness. How easily they turn a gentle person into a target. How they bruise what they don’t understand. I walked through years of cruelty disguised as humour, jealousy disguised as friendship, violence disguised as love. Every kindness I offered became a reason to hurt me. There are people who smell vulnerability like blood. People who study your empathy just to dismantle it. People who resent the light you carry because it exposes the emptiness in them. I’m done explaining myself to the broken. Done shrinking so others feel taller. Done carrying wounds I never deserved. I survived every one of you — and that survival is its own quiet victory. I learned that kindness is dangerous. That gentleness is treated like weakness. That being good makes you visible to people who feed on anything softer than themselves. You taught me that the world is not cruel by accident — it’s cruel because too many people choose it. I don’t hate humanity. I hate the way people rot when they refuse to confront themselves. I hate the way they punish light because they can’t bear to see their own shadows. I hate the way they break what’s gentle just to feel powerful for a moment. Now I stand alone in a quiet room, finally free from the noise of those who tried to remake me into something bitter like them. There is peace in solitude. There is clarity in distance. There is strength in surviving what tried to erase you. I breathe without fear for the first time in years. No one is watching. No one is waiting to take something from me. No one is twisting my kindness into a weakness. The world is still broken, but I am not. Not anymore.