Work Text:
I hear people talking to me, but I fear that if I show the real me, they'll stop talking to me.
Everyday, every moment, every interaction feels more suffocating than the last.
I want to get rid of the shell that contains me, to show them every piece and shape that is me.
But I'm deathly afraid.
Of being rejected, being called disgusting, or worse, that they won't even acknowledge me.
To be remember as someone I wasn't, how cruel a fate.
A foolish hope clings to my heart, that they'll accept me as I am, that I'll be alright.
Will they mourn me when I'm gone? Or will they bury every trace of me?
There'll be no one and nothing waiting for me in the end, not even them.
It is unfair. Why does it sadden me but not them?
Are they sad?
No, they're gripping to the sayings of religion.
They've sinned, time and time again, yet they act as if the resemblances of parts of me that they see on the street are those who've sinned.
Foolish bastards, cling to religion all you want, but in the end, God will scold you for hating their creations.
"Love thy neighbors." They said, while being disgusted with them.
"Do not speak of evil." And the only thing they're refusing to say is my name, as if it's a sin.
I can't help but forgive, yet in the end, they wouldn't have want to change, so there is nothing to forgive.
I'll be forever stuck with these feelings, just as I'm forever stuck with the memories of them.
There's no future for me with them, so I apologize.
They do not know for what.
But that'll be the last time they see me, but in the end, I couldn't tell them who I actually am.
Farewell, my dear family.