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This year taught me that endurance is not always a virtue, and effort alone does not give something value.

I spent much of this year trying to understand others— forgiving what still hurt, waiting for clarity from people who never intended to be clear.

2025 showed me that silence is an answer, and not choosing is, in itself, a choice.

I learned that my feelings were never wrong. I was not weak for feeling pain. I was simply standing in a place where I should not have stayed for so long.

I do not need to be everyone’s good person. I do not need to understand every reason. I do not need to carry relationships that require me to shrink myself to survive.

This year gave me the courage to say: I have tried enough.

And stopping is not failure. It is the return of my power.

I accept that some things must end. Even if the heart still feels. Even if the memories remain. I choose not to stay in the same cycle again.

2025 did not break me. It shed my skin.

It removed the patience that cost me myself. It stripped away hope with no real ground. And it left me closer to who I truly am— more honest, more awake, more whole.

As I close this year, I do not ask for anyone to come back. I do not ask for anyone to change.

I ask for one thing only:

May I never betray myself again.

Chapter 3: Painful Memories

Some people are born carrying pain. Some people are born with imperfections. Some people fall asleep while their stomachs are still empty. Some people grow up never hearing words of praise, never hearing the words, “Well done.”

There are only voices that keep hammering in: “Why can you only do this much?” “I don’t see what you’re good at.” “Why can’t you even do something this simple?”

Those voices… they never fall silent. They embed themselves in every breath, becoming part of who you are, becoming the “me” you try so hard to forget.

You may have forgotten who said them, but you never forgot how it felt back then. The feeling that the whole world had turned its back on you, that you should never have been born, that you were worth nothing at all.

Chapter 2: Comfort Wrapped in Lies On your worst days—the days you can’t bring yourself to rise, the days when even a single breath feels too heavy,too sharp,too much—I have only one thing to offer you.Comfort. “It will pass.” “You’ve done so well.” “Everything will get better.” “You’re not alone.” Warm words, aren’t they? Soft enough to cradle your trembling heart. Gentle enough to make you believe, even for a fleeting moment, that the world isn’t crushing you. But you know… some of those words are hollow. Some are lies dressed in the skin of comfort. Pathetic, isn’t it? I know you don’t believe them—not completely. And perhaps… I don’t believe them either. Yet I still say them.

Chapter 1: The Voice

You’re tired, aren’t you… You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? The teasing compliments. The cruel words that sank too deep. The mornings when you couldn’t get out of bed. The nights you cried without knowing why. The moments of happiness… brief, fragile, gone too soon. Did you forget someone? Someone who stayed with you through it all. Not a friend. Not family. Not a lover. But me. I’m sorry for making you do that. I know you didn’t want to. I wanted to stop you—truly. But in the end, I was the one who whispered: “Go on. It’ll feel better.” I am that voice.

If you see me as a shadow, then know this— I am not the darkness. I am… darker than anything you have ever known. I control you, guide you, in every action, every word. And you… will never escape. Do not look for me. You will never find me. What a pity… if you have begun to fear me. Why, you ask? Perhaps… you are the one who is me.