Self-loathing… torture… Something’s misaligned in me.
Oh, what a pity. If only I had everything handed to me.
I could be filtered just like everybody. Poor. Poor. Me.
Wait. what the fuck am I saying, seriously?
What kind of twisted programming has me bending my reality?
repeating in my head how I am or have nothing?.. I call this sabotaging.
I summon this energy, come to the surface your existence in me is concerning.
Woe is me, see all the wounds inflicted on me? How can you expect me to operate properly?
There it is. That voice projecting pitifully.
Ringing sorrowfully in my head. that’s it!
So, self-pity. We meet again. Remember,
what I said the last time you came to sit and bug me…
while I was writing… Trying to be productive,
and you interrupted me?
No… I’m sorry, how can you expect me
to remember anything?
I am stupid, I’m incompetent, really.
So if I fail, it’s your fault for believing.
Let me stop you right there. This is utter nonsense.
Go look up the picture of a duck and roll off my back like water.
Don’t touch anything inside of me, go, be melancholy elsewhere, please.
That’s stupid. We always think of the dumbest most unhelpful things.
I try to tell you something and you are shaming me! I find this triggering *crying*
It’s no wonder no one likes me. They don’t understand me.
How could I expect them to when I can’t even understand myself?
Enough, if you won’t do it I will. D.U.C.K. see? Not that hard.
Just follow the directives I give and you might learn something.
Who cares if it’s a whim, we are living in a dream.
Take a look. Do you see ducks acting as you do?
Wallowing in self-loathing? No. They swim upstream with ease.
Fly on the breeze, and are immune to drowning…
everything slides from their back easily. See?
Are we understanding each other, Bee?
How am I supposed to know how they feel when they do what they do?
What if the only thing ducks really need are the things their feathers are blocking?
How do I know what they are saying when their quacking,
I can barely speak my own language let alone theirs. Thanks for rubbing it in my face.
Wow. Amazing. Crazy how masterfully you miss the point.
How can you not see you’re being ridiculous, dear me?
Everything is as it is for a reason. The things we experienced?
Nothing more than a season. Rerouted reasoning.
A new seasoning. Note to self… Self-pity is annoying.
I’ve only been with you for five minutes in this mirror
and I’ve had about all I can hear.
How would I know how sweet is sweet? If not for the bitter taste of defeat.
How might I develop a flavor for what’s savory? If not for the tasteless moments of hostility.
How might I have found myself mild and at peace? If not for the fearsome moments coming against me.
Anything approaching me. Is here to teach not beat me.
Always. I’m learning something. The scent of self-pity is familiar to me.
the aftertaste, unsavory, though in the moment of depravity when I take and eat…
I find myself guiltily enjoying… embedding its nature and digging in its feet.
I now see the emotive for what it is. A cousin and chronic accomplice to the victim mentality.
Did I mention neither is a quality companion?
self-pity is not natural to the human form.
It is an inorganic virus to keep the mind heavy,
and unable to conduct its duty of computing.
Telling me, there is no savior. Nothing to combat these.
Seriously?
I know, I am unworthy, nothing is going to save me.
I’m crippled emotionally.
Currently, humanity is suffering from bent knee syndrome.
Living life under the illusion of powerlessness medicating every devil ’til they’re all numb.
When really, the only way to gain immunity to any is by standing in power, and not self-pity.
Sit with a seed, it could be whatever you find divinely pleasing; imagining, imagining,
what might I look like powerfully aligned? Well defined. Divine.
The picture develops slow and then, all-of-a-sudden.
The ripple begins to infect me to change, the silver lining.
I am humming, vibrating until I’m shining.
No, you are wrong. The suffering is long gone. It’s you projecting.
That means; I’m voting you off this Emerald Island Self-Pity.
I am the savior, the savior is in me. I choose to dive in and get to know my being.
I have a responsibility to invest in my energy and pour myself into the gifts given to me.
Compassion. Love. Mercy. Peace. Currency. Laughter. Healing. Power. Comradery.
Everything good that I can give and receive, I give and receive to me freely.
I have to be the one to stand up in me, for me, and then through me. Alignment. No one is going to do this for me. But, my directives internally tell me… I am what I am. I have what I need. All my desires are approaching. Be. Believe. Be. Beloved.
THE UNIVERSE IS AN INFINITE STATE OF BECOMING WITH INFINITE PATIENCE AND TIME TO ALLOW ME TO LEARN MY LESSONS. IN THIS LIFETIME. IN THE NEXT ONE. IN THE ONE a HUNDRED AWAY FROM ME I HAVE AS LONG AS I NEED TO REALISE THE LESSONS KEY FOR MY UPLIFTING…
I walk away from the bottom of the barrel with a new awareness growing.
A knowing built from seeing and battling thoughts coming to me through the lens of low vibrating energies.
If I’m still busy wallowing when those high vibrating being sent to help me call to me…
I will not resonate with what they are telling me, I’m busy bemoaning and begging for sympathy.
until I’m ready to be rid of the circumstances feeding my self-pity… I am bound to feed it as much as me.
And when words aren’t enough to coax me from the deep, and they reach out to help me,
I won’t use their leverage to pull myself up. Self-pity knows nothing of nobleness.
Instead, the wily self-pity residing within me will work tirelessly to pull them down to me,
at the bottom of the bucket, like the bitch of a crab it’s used to being, how sad, that I let it wear me.
Unaware that part of me is operating under my nose to wear the enabler down until they too,
rest uneasy in self-pity, seeing me as the reason for their depressed state of being.
So, as I move on as the victim without them they now see me as a villain.
I am an adult. I am powerful enough to do this for myself.
Self-pity is a step and is meant to be a short-lived one on the way to self-sufficiency.
I am meant to kill it from me by acting in strength and maintaining resolve
being as true to the nature of who I was and am and will be.
I am powerful what is there to pity?