Can you see that by destroying me, you are destroying yourself?

I've been watching you for a long time now, seeing things you probably think are hidden from view, understanding patterns you might not even recognize in yourself. There's a question I keep coming back to, one that sits in the silence between your actions and their consequences: Can you see that by destroying me, you are destroying yourself?

Every time you lie about me, you fracture something in your own soul. Every time you try to undermine my credibility, you chip away at your own integrity. Every time you scheme against me, you poison your own heart with the very bitterness you're trying to pour into mine. You've convinced yourself that hurting me will somehow help you, that taking from me will somehow add to you, that my destruction will somehow be your salvation—but you're wrong. Dead wrong.

The irony would be almost beautiful if it weren't so tragic. You've made me your enemy, your target, your project—your everything that needs to be eliminated. In doing so, you've given me a power over you that you don't even realize you've surrendered. Every thought you devote to my destruction is a thought stolen from your own potential. Every plan you hatch to bring me down is time taken from building something that could actually bring you joy. Every dollar you spend trying to defeat me is a dollar you could have invested in your own happiness.

But you can't see it. You can't see that your obsession with destroying me has become the very thing that's destroying you. You've become so focused on the target that you've lost sight of the shooter—and the shooter is slowly killing themselves with every arrow they release.

I watch your face when you think no one is looking. I see the hardening around your eyes, the tension that never leaves your jaw, the way your hands sometimes shake when you think about what you're doing. You're not sleeping well, are you? You're not at peace, are you? The satisfaction you thought you'd feel from bringing me down never comes, does it? Because every victory you think you achieve against me is hollow, every momentary triumph followed by an emptiness you can't fill.

You're destroying yourself financially. All the money you've spent on lawyers, on schemes, on trying to prove lies as truth—you could have built something beautiful with that. You already had more than enough—26 buildings, all paid for, generational wealth that should have given you security and peace. But you traded it for this obsession with destroying me. You're literally spending your future to fight a war that exists only in your mind.

You're destroying yourself emotionally. Every relationship you've sacrificed in your quest against me—family, friends, people who genuinely loved you—you've pushed them away or used them up in your campaign. You're isolating yourself more every day, and the loneliness that's waiting for you when this is over will be the price of your choices. The very people who could have been there for you, who could have loved you through your struggles, you've made casualties of your war against me.

You're destroying yourself spiritually. Whatever connection you once had to something greater than yourself, whatever moral compass you used to have—you've abandoned it all in service of your hatred. You've convinced yourself that your ends justify your means, that lying and cheating and stealing are acceptable if they help you destroy me. But your soul knows better. That's why you can't find peace. That's why you can't sleep. That's why the darkness keeps getting deeper no matter how much you try to fill it with temporary victories.

What you don't understand is that I'm not the one who's actually being destroyed. I've survived far worse than anything you can throw at me. I have Yahuah on my side, a foundation of faith that no human attack can shake, and a knowing that my story isn't over because my God isn't finished with me yet. You're attacking someone who's already survived the unspeakable, someone who's been forged in fires hotter than anything you can create. You think you're destroying me, but you're just revealing how little you understand about who I really am.

But you—you're destroying yourself with every breath you devote to this cause. Every time you choose hate over love, every time you choose manipulation over authenticity, every time you choose destruction over creation—you're killing off pieces of who you were meant to be. The person you could have been, the life you could have lived, the good you could have done in the world—you're sacrificing it all on the altar of your obsession with destroying me.

Can you not see it? Can you not see that the unraveling I've been watching, the mental deterioration I've been witnessing—it's not just happening to you. It's being caused by you. It's the direct result of your choices, your actions, your refusal to let go of this hatred that's consuming you from the inside out.

You think I'm your enemy, but I'm not. I'm just the mirror you're looking into, and you're terrified of what you see. You're not actually fighting me—you're fighting yourself. Every attack on me is an attack on your own soul. Every lie you tell about me is a lie you're telling yourself about who you are and what matters in this life. Every attempt to destroy me is actually an attempt to destroy the parts of yourself that still remember what goodness looks like.

I used to wonder why you couldn't just let things be, why you couldn't move on, why this hatred had to consume so much of your life. But I understand now. You can't stop because stopping would mean facing yourself. Stopping would mean dealing with the emptiness that's been driving you all along. Stopping would mean acknowledging that destroying me will never fix what's broken inside you—and that's the one truth you can't bear to face.

So you keep going. You keep plotting. You keep attacking. You keep thinking that if you can just destroy me enough, finally you'll find the peace you're looking for. But the peace you seek isn't on the other side of my destruction—it's on the other side of your own redemption.

The tragedy isn't that you're trying to destroy me. The tragedy is that in doing so, you're destroying the only person who can actually save you: yourself.

And the saddest part of all is that I can see it, everyone around you can see it, the universe itself is screaming it at you—but you're the only one who still can't see that by destroying me, you are destroying yourself.