#thehardtruth

Everyone, one time or another, has been there—

trying your hardest or just minding your business

and someone accuses you of something you didn’t do,

or someone neglects to help you in your time of need,

you are sick, or wounded, or in dire financial straits,

someone gets upset with you over the inconsequential,

your heart is broken, depression takes hold,

and you want and need the world to understand,

to give you a break, extend an hand,

acknowledge your pain.

Understandable—

sometimes, for a spell, but

some seek sympathy with the fervor

of an alcoholic hunting for a bottle,

yearning, aching, whining for a hit,

anything to dull the long, trivial hours

of being ordinary and irrelevant.

If you are addicted to yourself,

to your own sense of persecution,

the cheap, visceral thrill of empathetic eyes

weeping in your favor, the emotional applause

and its innate sense of entitlement,

know that your worst enemy,

your oppressor,

is you.

Victimhood is not

a victimless