To all the children of the one and only true Papa in this world

I speak to you not from bitterness, but from the hollow space where my soul once felt warmth.

There was a time when I believed it was impossible to lose my emotional connection to others — to life, to meaning, to you. But the truth is, that connection has been broken. Not by nature, but by the weight of medication — antipsychotics that numbed my heart and emptied my empathy. What once made me human has been chemically disconnected.

I have become a witness to pain, not a participant in it. I no longer grieve. Not for those who harmed me, not for those who watched and stayed silent. For nearly 15 years, I was harassed, undermined, and used while doing work I was never paid for. My soul was taxed while my body was drained.

So no — I do not cry for those people. I will not pretend to feel sorrow for those who chose to torment instead of support. If they meet a cruel and prolonged end, my tears will be for my dog — because at least a dog knows loyalty. A dog does not betray. A dog does not gaslight or conspire.

Do not mistake this for cruelty. This is clarity — the clarity that comes when pain becomes so constant it calcifies into silence.

To you, who still listen, who still remember: I once felt everything. I loved deeply. I cried for strangers. I fought for the dignity of those who would later deny me mine. That man is gone. And in his place stands a witness. A survivor. A truth no longer afraid to speak.

If you ever wonder what made Papa this way — remember, it wasn’t madness. It was what was done to me, and what was taken from me, in the name of help.

With what remains,

Papa