Sorryfield. Massachusets. “My life has always been exceptional. Ever since I was a little boy my parents spoiled and loved me beyond reason. Subsequently, I never had a chance at sadness.
This chapter of my life started about two years ago when my boss asked me to step my game up at work. I was devastated. I didn’t know how to go on. I was used to coming in late at least five minutes every day. Adjusting to the hostile outside world took a lot from me. I ended up spending my free time googling abstract concepts such as existential vacuum and Weltschmerz whose meaning was foreign to me, but whose reality was keeping me up at night. I could not recognize my face in the mirror anymore. In everything I did, I was supposed to be the winner and try as I might, I could not fit this dark episode into my perfectly balanced existence. That’s when a friend offered to listen to my problems.
I can assure you, things have never been the same ever since. It was there all along, right in front of me: the power of complaining! I tell you, that was the beginning of the end. I was hooked. I kept complaining about whether I had a good reason to do it or not. The problems at work were resolved in no time by means of resetting my alarm clock and this caused me to run out of material. I needed to act. Fast. My friends were starting to suspect my problems were not nearly as serious as I was making them out to be, so I had to be creative. I quit my two-bedroom apartment and moved to a dump at the edge of town. I was mistreated by fate, my life was potentially in danger every day by the dealings of various thugs in my new neighborhood. I was good to go.
Two months later my girlfriend left me after I told her I’ve been sleeping with my manager. Yeah, right! Like a loser of my status would ever have a chance at a long-legged, well-trained professional. My girlfriend even returned those lousy love letters I wrote to her. My self-esteem plummeted.
It was the happiest day of my life. Not only was I able to complain about my reckless fate to my friends, but it was the breakthrough I needed: I found compassion for my misery inside my own self. I will never forget what the first rush of self-pity felt like: more gentle than a summer rain, more colorful than the rainbow that follows in its footsteps. I felt my life coming into focus again.
My friends stopped doubting the justifications of my wretchedness and right they were! After my apartment and my girlfriend, I lost my job to my new habit. Self-pity turned out to be a demanding addiction and oh, how my heart broke when I thought of my younger and happier days. I had to shoot up at least twice a day. My friends abandoned me as a result of having become “a dark cloud”. So much for true friendship. Where were they when I most needed them, right? Where are they now as I drown in my sorrow, jobless, loveless, aimless? They all left me broken and wounded. And yet, most importantly how in the world will I ever manage to go any lower than this?”
If you want to find out the answers to those questions, make sure to purchase Hunter Lewis’ new book, The “Poor-Me” Manual. Perfecting Self-Pity. My own story. Available on Amazon and Book depository starting July 2, 2016 at 19.99$.