Filth

     When you've truly seen the filth of a man, the stains on his soul that have corroded any sense of decency far beyond recognition, you are not to blame for recognizing that he has no place in this world. When he would forsake his own family, and those he inaccurately professes love for, just to acquire a moment's selfish satisfaction, you are not to blame for realizing he has taken far more than what he is worth. How can one justify such gross misrepresentations of love and trust from another when he is not allowed even the most minor of transgressions himself? That you demand flawlessness and perfection of those around you in dealing with your weaknesses, while making absolutely no effort to absolve your many sins on your own is a sad display of just how petty and weak you are. 

      How dare you ask me to understand, to sympathize with your plight, when you haven't even the pittance of willpower it would require to repel your own selfish desires for one day? If you had ever shown even the slightest inclination to resolve your issues, I would have gladly extended a hand. But don't wallow in the trough all your life, happily feeding on slop, only to beg assistance from me when I pass you by. My hands are full with the work I perform for others, others who at least have the courage to stand at my side with their own shovels, that we may dig their way out together. Why should I carry you? Why should I give a fuck what you're going through when you keep putting yourself on that path? 

     You see, when most fall, they cannot simply rely on the world to continuously pick them up. Your dependence on the kind hearts of others to continue to allow you to greedily devour every resource you can is a disgusting trait. There is nothing about you worthy of the air you breathe, nothing about you worthy of even the most trivial offerings of assistance. You broke that, you fucked your life up, and now you're latching on to anyone and anything you can, blaming those who saved you for your damnation. Hell, for you, will not be an inferno. You would only use that kind of suffering to continue to blame those who offered their hands to you for the consequences you face. No, your hell will be a thousand mirrors, reflecting only your own guilty filthy soul everywhere you look, that in the depths of eternity you might begin to understand the truth of all this. Because the truth is, who, what, and where you are is your own fucking fault. Because all of us have excuses we could use to justify being terrible people, but the vast majority value themselves at least enough to understand that the difficulties we might face in life are not justification to enforce our own misery on those around us. 

     You are the one who has failed, you are the one who lacks the comprehension to understand just how small of a person you really are, and in the end, you are the one who will ultimately answer for your transgressions against the world. I do not envy you, your punishment has been and will always be far more severe than my own, because in the midst of my difficulties, I can take solace in the fact that I still know how to stand with my shovel and dig my own way out of the shit I am occasionally burdened by, and for that, I will always be loved, at the least by myself, and for all that I give, by many others. All the while you will still be trying to determine why they don't love you for what you take, when you offer nothing in compensation for it. So maybe you don't consider me family, I'm certainly okay with that, because I will always have family, and you will only ever have victims. Now back to your trough pig, because I am tired of cleaning the shit off my hands after handling you.