"I was never a villain..."
I was never a villain, only a soul who carried too much weight in silence. They looked at me as if I held shadows in my palms, but those shadows were not born to harm. They were born because I refused to let the world dictate the light I should keep.
Perhaps I have been misunderstood, but what is life if not a sequence of misinterpretations? I did not destroy—though sometimes my steps left ruins. I did not betray—though sometimes my silence felt like abandonment. I only walked the path I believed in, even if it cut me open, even if it painted me in colors that others feared to name.
If love called me selfish, it was because I wanted to remain myself within it. If society called me strange, it was because I could not dissolve into their endless sameness. And if someone ever whispered that I was cruel, perhaps it was only because I had the courage to choose myself when everyone else demanded surrender.
I was never a villain.
I was only human—broken, stubborn, longing, yet still burning with the secret fire that keeps me alive in this world that never stops asking for masks.














