Everyone liked me when I was silence.
Everyone liked me when I didn't say a word, when I took everything. When I didn't even think of standing up for myself. When I put their mental health before mine. That's how they liked me.
People like me are from the easiest kind. You can do whatever you want to, and I wouldn't say a word. Wouldn't dare. Just for the chance you'd get mad, just for the chance I'd accidentally hurt you. So people like me? We tolerate. We tolerate and we keep tolerate till we explode. Till there's nothing left of us. We tolerate and there's no one who'd be willing to tolerate us once they realise the amount of bullshit they took in. "It's too late" is everything we get told. "It's been a long time since then, I'm not that person anymore" we get asked why we're bringing things up and we get investigated under what feels like a huge mirror put in front of our faces that tells us to get lost. That nobody cares. That the change others went through is everything that matters now and no one gives a shit that you're mad and no one gives a shit or cares about everything you had to tolerate because it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter. Because you made it seem like it never did in the first place. And people always get defensive when they're getting lectured. So now the only thing that matters is the change they went through. And there's no one in the world to acknowledge us.
And then one day you wake up and say enough. One day the wasp nest you agreed to host in your minds collapses. One day it's gone. Gone. Completely gone and it goes out in the form of asking and wondering why and getting mad at yourself and getting mad at people who are completely different now.
And you smile and say how happy you are that they changed, you smile and say how glad you are that things are better for them. How happy you are that you taught them to be better. You smile and you keep them by your side because even though you know you'll never take that old behaviour again you know that right now they're the person you wished they'd be from the beginning. You know that you have a voice now and you're not silent anymore.
But still. Even then- they'd prefer you mute. They'd never admit that, they'd smile and say how happy they are to see you finally getting mad but when that fire burns them suddenly it's the worst thing in the world. Only that it's not. It has to burn. It has to.
