I’ve worked and worked. For you. For them.
You say that my work has been noticed. They know. But have you noticed me?

I came to you yesterday. I said, I need a hand. There’s this thing that I’ve been doing for you, for them. I can’t handle it all alone. I’m willing to beg. We need more time, or we’ll fall down.
And you said sure. You held out your hand. And as I jumped off the ledge to catch it, you let me down.

I went to you.

If you could, you’d be doing this job yourself-but we both know that you could never focus enough to be a member of the elite tradition to which I have dedicated myself.
So screw you. Tomorrow, people are going to cheer for you, and be ashamed for me. But I will see the entire picture.

I know who is to blame.

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