No, I’m not ready to become you. I still want to be kind even when the world keeps teaching me cruelty. I still want to help people without asking what I’ll get in return. I still want to believe that surviving doesn’t require losing my soul. You visit me when I’m weak. You sit beside my darkest thoughts and whisper things that almost make sense. You tell me that pain is power, that empathy is a curse, that soft hearts are made to bleed. And for a moment, I almost follow you. But I can still hear the quieter voice inside me, the one barely breathing beneath all this chaos, telling me to stay. To remain human. To keep my faith untouched even when everything inside me wants revenge. So don’t come back every time I fall apart. Don’t make a home inside my despair. I refuse to love the things you love. I pray to be distanced from your hunger, your emptiness, your beautiful destruction. Because I still want the right path even if it’s harder. Even if it hurts longer. you were created by suffering. but I am trying not to become it.