You can’t build a solid foundation upon chips on shoulders. Unhealed fractures of ego that never sit quite still. They shift like rock slides as the world jostles you around. Everything tumbles down and there you go again, trying to pile it all back on those tired chips.
Imagine waking up one day to find that everything you have is folly. Driven not by heart or talent, suddenly you find that your motivation for everything was rooted in fickle pursuits spawned of disdain. You just wanted to best someone else. And the resulting life is a phantom of someone else’s, doomed now to haunt you like the poltergeist you’ve made it.
I reach for pity but you seem to be quite fulfilled in your anger. It has saturated even the deepest parts of your psyche. It colors how you interact with others, how you view yourself, everything you choose to do. Once your parasite, your anger has become your symbiont. It needs your complacency to survive just as much as you require its antagonistic lullabies to find self actualization. One in the same now, it may just be impossible to separate the two. There’s no pity to be had, only lessons to be learned.