I’ve stayed silent until now. I’ve been hurt, crushed, excluded—but I stayed silent. Because I believed that one day, every word that needed to be said would find its place. But now it’s no longer time to wait—it’s time to speak. These lines are written in anticipation of something that may very well happen. And this isn’t just a possibility—it’s a looming confrontation.

Yes, there may be physical attacks. Maybe I’ll be knocked down, maybe I’ll feel real pain. But I know that at the end of this road, I won’t kneel. Even with the weight of a herniated disc, I’ll stand tall. Because this isn’t just about holding my body upright—it’s about straightening my soul.

To my family… I can no longer keep silent about the wounds I’ve carried for years. When I needed support, you gave me silence. To my relatives… clinging to blood ties alone, you never truly opened your hearts to me. And to those I once called friends… it didn’t take me long to see your warmth was just a performance. The greatest lesson you ever taught me? Never trust anyone too deeply.

This isn’t rebellion. It’s awakening. It’s time to put down the burdens I’ve carried on my shoulders. I won’t fall for anyone’s performance of kindness anymore. I need to choose my people carefully—because in the middle of a war, even those who claim to be neutral are still enemies.

This post is for everyone who will regret their silence one day. And for the few—maybe just a handful—who truly understand me. Perhaps I’m living just for them. That’s why I’m speaking now, with no hesitation.

You can’t hurt me anymore. The fear in my eyes has turned to fire. The exhaustion in my heart has transformed into something else—not anger, but determination. Because I don’t just want to live anymore. I want to exist—in my own path, under my own light.