By accident, it has dawned on me. No intent to pry through your life but finding one simple piece of information explains it quite well.
The feeling of inadequacy makes us do things. In your case, ugly, morbid things. Hitler felt inadequate. He did monstrous things. But you, you are seemingly only capable of ugly.
Instead of translating your perceived inadequacy into personal success – by finding this one thing you are good at and pursuing it, you carry on swimming in your pathetic, bitter pool of self-pity and you try so hard to drown everyone in it, to poison any positive action into mediocrity – so you can feel better, bigger, stronger.
Besides, the inability to stop your sour personal life and perpetual PMS from spilling out of you is not a value anyone looks for. Shallow or deep friendships, we all look for a positive player, value add, someone to build with – not a full-time deflater and mood-devourer.
Life is too short to accord you audience for your manner. There exist people who will not embrace you at all. Ever. Who will not give you half-a-chance. There exists the world that actually swallows small, poisonously bitter pills like yourself, by bucketful for tea.
I know you will meet them, all the time. They will remind you how small you are, how little you know and how little you are worth. Thus I will be on your mind. Now you want your lollypop and you are rolling on the ground, screaming for it. Only years later you will remember the taste of all the food we ate together, when life beats your arrogant self into pulp and teaches you your daily bitter lessons.
When the rest of your life becomes one huge amaro blob, you will know who cared and who respected you. You will also remember how you shut the door with your ass, firmly. That will be my gift to you. The memory of the only good times you had in your entire life, where you were somebody and where everybody cared.
Till you barked them all away.
