People make the place

When it’s useless to say, I rather not tell. I can never get away from the hellish place. This moment you scrub my back but when I walk away you try to stab me. Sometimes I just can’t understand smiles can be so fake.

I did try to explain, the dowagers refused to listen more.

I just wish things can be solved in a peaceful way, let me leave and not flame up before they get overboard. Then, when I walk past I can still smile and give a little cheer.

There’s no sense of belonging. My conscience tells me not to work hard for selfish creatures.

Why should I care for friends who only care for me to clean up the muddy ground after they step on? Isn’t it better to sever ties once and for all? So many passer-bys have advised me to speak up.

Like what Lieutenant Galen has reminded, what make a place are the people. And now the people are suffocating me.

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