Throughout the entirety of my existence, I've been ensnared in a web of deception, my life unfurling as a tapestry woven from untruths. The authenticity I once reserved solely for you has dissipated into the void, leaving me grappling with the haunting question: did you ever truly care for me, or was I merely a mistake in the narrative of your life?
The fallacy extends to the very core of my identity, as you fabricated falsehoods about my father, manipulating my emotions and steering me towards a baseless hatred. Your proclamations of love were empty echoes, resonating in the hollow chambers of a heart that never reciprocated the sentiment. Promises of unwavering support were nothing more than ephemeral whispers, vanishing like smoke in the wind.
The chapter of my life that followed was marked by your decision to marry a monstrous figure, a man whose cruelty knew no bounds. His fists became the instruments of my suffering, the echoes of each blow etched into the fabric of my being. Amidst the physical and emotional turmoil, I teetered on the precipice of life and death, wondering if your choices were indeed a reflection of some hidden truth or merely another layer of the elaborate deception that defined my existence.
Now, in the silent realm of the departed, the answers remain elusive. The lines between truth and lie blur into an indistinct haze, leaving me forever suspended in the ambiguity of your actions. Your purported love did not serve as a shield, but rather as a weapon, the very instrument that extinguished the fragile flame of my life.
As I succumb to the void, I am left with the stark realization that I am nobody, a shattered vessel of potential rendered useless by the weight of your betrayals. You, the architect of my demise, have broken me beyond repair, and in the throes of my final moments, I grapple with the profound sorrow that if love indeed resided within your heart, it would never have manifested as the instrument of my untimely end.
