Mourndays: Regretting Giving Sympathy to a Mourner

Good morning, pornies. I hope you are well. These days I remembered something rather curious that happened to me two years ago, when I gave my condolences to a girl. She had been such a prepotent, intolerant, and haughty person with me that I found it a little bit strange to watch her cry in front of everyone, but I am only human, one who cannot help but try to be there for others if they need him. Turns out that I regretted doing it.

Photo by KoolShooters from Pexels.

What? Yes, for real. After a bit of time, that same day, she was back into her usual character, being as insufferable as only she could be, and I found myself thinking "why did you try to console her?" I realized I expected her loss would magically turn her into a nice person, as if that could give her some perspective on what she was doing and who she was becoming.

Nope.

It took me some time to understand that death changed me, but it doesn't change everyone. You must allow loss, mourning, depression, and grief to affect you that way. It is something you decide, sooner or later, or maybe never.

Every relative that I lost taught me a valuable lesson by leaving, and I tried my best to be a better me after that. I wanted to honor their memory, their life, and to make them proud of me, even if there were not there to physically see it. It made me realize how different I want to be, how short my time could be, and that I want to make the most of it.

Turns out, not everyone is like that. Not everyone wants to be better, to go higher, farther, into the unknown of who they are and who they could be. They are okay with their present and want to keep it as their future. Who are we to argue against that? It's their free will, after all.

I wanted to be there for that girl because it is natural for me to help, to want to heal. As a Witch, I know how powerful emotions are, and as a necromancer, I know death marks everyone's life differently. When she became the same person I had dealt with before, I knew I had nothing to do with her, not a fuck hand to give, and no sympathy to offer.

It made me feel bad because I felt I had put myself in a vulnerable position for nothing, that I tried to open up with her and she simply spat on my face (metaphorically speaking, mind you). It was like I was disrespectful towards myself, but I understood after a while that I did nothing wrong.

Now I just feel sorry for that girl. Modesty put aside, I'm a great guy. I know I am because my friends tell me so and I try to be so. She was so lost in her pride and selfishness she decided to stay stagnant and do nothing. That experience proved to be a valuable lesson for me. Death only does its thing if so you wish. It will come no matter what, though.

Kinky regards, K!

Connect with me on Instagram and Twitter!

Remember this blog lusts after your comments and shares to grow healthy!