The Things We Become

There’s a kind of pain that doesn’t scream,  it sits quietly inside you and grows roots.

Resentment. Hate. Grudges.

You tell yourself you’re just protecting your heart, but all you’re really doing is feeding a fire that never goes out.

It starts small.

Just a few bitter thoughts.

A few moments replayed too many times.

A quiet resentment you tell yourself you can manage.

You carry it like it’s nothing, just a feeling, just a bruise.

A few words you never got to say, building up like smoke in your chest.

At first, it feels justified. You were hurt, betrayed, ignored.

That anger feels right. It feels like justice.

You tell yourself you’re just standing your ground, protecting yourself.

But somewhere along the line, that anger starts running the show.

And it grows.

It feeds on every memory, every insult, every time someone made you feel small.
It starts whispering things you swore you would never say, and then one day, you say them.

You start snapping at people who do not deserve it.

You roll your eyes when someone tries to be kind.

You say things that sting because, for a brief second, it feels powerful to make someone else flinch.

You convince yourself you are just being honest, but deep down you know it is not truth, it is venom.

The bitterness twists your tongue.

You say rude, mean, hurtful things that do not even sound like you.
You push people away before they can see what is left underneath.

You tell yourself you do not care, but that is a lie. You care too much, and you do not know what to do with all that pain except throw it at whoever is closest.

That is how resentment destroys you, not all at once but slowly, quietly.

It becomes your voice, your habits, your way of breathing.

You start confusing cruelty for strength.

You start calling coldness boundaries.

And every time you lash out, it feels a little easier until one day, it does not feel like lashing out anymore. It just feels like you.

Every cruel word, every sarcastic jab, every time you walk away from someone who tried to stay is another press of the self-destruction button.
Click. Another person gone.

Click. Another moment lost.

Click. Another night staring at the ceiling, wondering why you feel emptier every time you win.

Then one morning, you catch your reflection.

You stop.

Your face looks the same, but your eyes do not. They are harder, darker. The softness you used to have is gone.

You do not look like the person who was hurt anymore.
You look like the person who is doing the hurting.

And it hits you. This is who you have become.

The one who says the cruel thing first.

The one who shuts down instead of listening.

The one who hides pain behind sarcasm because honesty feels dangerous now.
You have spent so long fighting ghosts that you turned into one.

You thought holding on would protect you.

But it did not.

It hollowed you out.

It took your laughter, your warmth, your ability to be kind.

And now all that is left is this tired shell of someone who once just wanted to be understood.

This is not about forgiveness.

It is not about peace or healing or letting anyone else off the hook.
It is about realizing that hate rewired you.

That anger became your default setting.

That you have been pressing your own self-destruction button every time you open your mouth and let the hurt speak for you.

One day, you will look around and there will be nothing left to break.

No one left to blame.

Just you, standing in the silence you created, still holding the match.

So, before it is too late, before you burn down what is left of the good in you, let it go.

Not because they deserve it.

Because you do not deserve to disappear.

“Resentment. Hate. Grudges. They begin as shields, but end as knives turned inward. You think you’re holding them for protection, until you realize they’ve been carving pieces out of you all along.”