Pity Party

To a point where you cannot allow yourself to feel. The resounding sound of her words ” Are you done with your pity party?”

It is like a permanent scar, like a scab with puss that cuts open with a slightest scrape. Anyone who knows me would conclude in a hurry that I do not much care for pity or parties ha. I can deal with my mistakes, my sins just fine. I can understand that I am flawed and I can understand that people will do what they must, at times.

I do not go around telling anyone if I am upset, I just wanted to share something with someone whom I thought would have cared. Instead I was met with utmost lack of sympathy and empathy.

You can tell yourself any story you want, but if you cannot see someone’s pain, regardless of how insignificant it may seem compared to your mighty self. You have not lived a day in your life. Sure you exists and tell everyone how strong you are. For a person to not be able to understand someone else’s pain and ridicule it, is the lowest form of human behavior. That is the singular reason, why I would never crawl back to you.


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