Pity

I’m finally letting go. In the purest sense of those words. Those who used to occupy my thoughts no longer have free reign in my mind. Some days, I would be consumed with the need to understand WHY or HOW certain people could be the way they are. WHY would someone lie about something so inconsequential or HOW could someone who claimed to have love in their heart be so filled with rot and waste?   Now I just ACCEPT that that is WHO they are. Their parts aren’t spliced together the way mine are. I have started to feel pity. I came from a most fucked up childhood. I suffered abuse and witnessed abuse. I ran away. I was assaulted. I was homeless, married too young, a teenage mother, a high school drop out, an anorexic/bulimic. I have had cancer, I have cheated death, I lost friends and family to death both natural and self inflicted, I was a product of divorce, twice. I was made fun of, picked on for being “poor”, I was a fighter, I was cast aside, forgotten. I was all of those things and yet I still treat people better than someone who grew up with both parents, who had the world handed to him, who never worked for anything, who never had loss, or felt grief, who was healthy, never faced death head on. I am still open to love and hope. I still dream. I am so confident in my own ability to carry on and be better than ever, that I have pity. My life is my own. His belongs to hate and greed and selfishness. I pity him because I have let go and he is the same. In this life, if you don’t grow and evolve, you die.  I pity the weak. I pity him.

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