I can't help but to squirm away from other's weaknesses, finding myself jealous especially. It's jaded and unempathetic, but I feel it all the same. I've always been overly sensitive in such a way that incapacitates me mentally at times, yet I can't express my own emotions in a healthy way. I know it's from my parents, the way they would laugh or scowl if a tear caught my eye. My parents were my first bullies, so I made sure not to be a target to anyone else. I pretended, I was angry, defensive, always had something to say before exhausting myself. Nobody deserves that type of treatment, I know this. It frustrates me endlessly when I see others who can't pick themselves up alone, that they don't understand what true "misery" is. I can't stand my own way of thinking and, at times, find myself glowering at other's misfortunes. Like I even know the understanding of "misery" myself. I know my misery, I can feel other's. Yet, I will never truly experience it through someone else's lens.