I try.
To be kind.
To be patient.
To be friendly.
To be generous.
To be empathetic.
I try so, so very hard.
In spite of my trauma.
In spite of my isolation.
In spite of my exhaustion.
In spite of my frustration.
In spite of my explosive anger.

What is there in return?
Nothing but neglect.
Nothing but exclusion.
Nothing but disinterest.
Nothing but ingratitude.
Nothing but passive-aggression.
What do I have to show for my effort?
My pain continues to grow.
My shadow continues to grow.
My cynicism continues to grow.
My exhaustion continues to grow.
My loneliness continues to grow.

There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to snap.
There's a part of me that wants to fire back, to let loose, to tear into them all.

I'm not going to do it, because that would make me just as bad as those who cursed me.
I'm not going to do it, even if no one ever realizes or acknowledges how hard it is not to.