As the days turn to months turn to years, I remain motionless. Unsure of my own desires I settled for complacency as rejection only fanned the flames. But I'm done substituting fantasy for stability. To seek? No, more than that, to create. To build myself into something you could not possibly deserve. To prove to others that I am not a product of my family name. And I've risked so much that failure is no longer and option. On my back ride the hopes of those who lead me from the dark as quickly as I drag them down with me. I refuse to be to my family what you were to me, a cold iron weight that slowly herniated my spine until I could no longer stand straight. I kept my burden a secret, I'm not one to let others worry for me and this icy focus must be what solidifies my resolve. I will succeed or I will take my own life. But it doesn't matter who hears anymore, I'll either end up dead or correct. I hope these words burn away your plastic smile and painted on happiness. I hope I can one day kill what remains of that dead heart of yours. To hell with my own fulfillment, I've found greater purpose outside of myself. I refuse to be what you were to me. I will be better than you. I found solace in the nothingness, I know that my life will end and nothing will change, just a fade to black.
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