Folders

You admitted that for years, you did EVERY AWFUL THING TO ME INTENTIONALLY.

You chose to hurt me, rape me, steal from me, you watched me suffer and did nothing.

You gained massive amounts of wealth, momentary friends, and a fake life built on lies because you stole resources from me to make yourselves fat, complicent, lazy, and comfortable. Blind.

Money created an illusion of personal ownership and false hierarchies based on nonsense, abuse, and exploitation.

You viciously ravaged me for your own pleasure.

You have acknowledged this, well at least one of you. Now, what are we going to do about it?

Do you disappear? Do I? Does the Messiah come? Do I forgive as you sit and do the same thing to me again and again and again?

No. I say no to that story and let go of you entirely. I own my responsibility in overreacting. Exploding. Changing. Growing. So much of me will always be unknown to you. It is just impossible to tell you everything. 

But I am just a place in space. And you are dust here.