Self loathe. Self pity. Is it worth it? I ask.
"I didn't mean it" "Those weren't my intentions" I cried as every noun, verb, pronoun and adjective astray into a whirlpool of darkness and distress.
Anger. Hatred. Resentment. Is it worth it? I ask for the second time.
"It won't happen" "Forgive me" I pleaded as I vowed to never say a word of goodwill to anyone again.
Frustrating, it truly is, when one's acts of compassion come across to many as provocative acts of narcissism. Detestation, even, when to all intents and purposes, one meant quite the opposite. One meant all but harm. Benevolence, even.