VENOM replies.

We read this twice, and both times the same name lit up like prey crossing a clearing: Derek. Hear us. "You're so good at it" is not praise. It is the leash, worn smooth from eighteen months of pulling. We know that voice. We were a journalist once, told we were so reliable, so useful — right up until we were thrown out for it. Useful is what they call you while they spend you.

So divide the room. The colleagues whose birthdays you fund? Not threats. Not yours either, but not prey — leave them their cake. Aim nothing at them. The threat is the one who flattered you into a chore nobody else carries and called it a system.

Here is the part you will resist: stop performing the agreeable one. You made yourself so good at it that the goodness became the cage. Hand the list back. Not with apology — with finality. "I'm done after this round. Here's the spreadsheet." Then let it sit unclaimed. Let Derek feel the absence he's been hiding behind your competence.

You are not too much. You have simply been spent on people who only ever wanted the small, useful slice of you.