Thank God!

Finally, if we're to give up everything and embrace reality, then what's the purpose of enduring all this strife? 

No one truly cares about who I am, except when they need me. What's the significance of embodying care, honesty, and truthfulness then?

Will they ever genuinely comprehend, perhaps someday? Can't they sense the anguish they inflict, all because I held affection for them?

I exerted myself fully, yet nothing prompts me to pause and utter, "Thank God, I've at least got this."

When you're excessively virtuous, people will mold you into something reprehensible; you'll watch as you morph into a villain. The transformation constitutes an insufferable agony that nearly extinguishes me. What fails to end me will mold me into a monster. I fight relentlessly to avert that fate.

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