Words That Bruise, Words That Heal

It hurts in a way I didn't expect.
Not because someone pointed out something I could improve,
not because they disagreed with my writing or my voice,
but because some people choose to be mean
just to watch something break.

They don't offer guidance,
not a hand, not a light,
not even the courtesy of telling me what exactly they hate.
Just venom for the sake of venom.
Just words that bruise without purpose.

I know I shouldn't care.
I know I should brush it off like dust,
like wind that never meant to stay.
But I'd be lying if I said it doesn't sit with me,
if I said those careless sentences don't echo
long after the screen goes dark.

I write because it keeps me alive.
Because some emotions refuse to stay silent forever.
Because somewhere out there, someone understands.
Yet here I am, feeling small
because a stranger decided to spit fire instead of truth.

Maybe it's easier to destroy than to understand.
Maybe kindness is a language some people never learned.
Maybe the world is full of voices that forget
there are hearts behind the words they mock.

Still... I'll keep writing.
Not for them.
Not to prove anything.
But because there are days like this,
when sadness tastes like metal,
and writing is the only way I know
how to breathe through it.