The first time I met you, I could smell the insecurity all over.
It’s understandable, and I don’t fault you for it. Most of us are lugging around heavy baggage and hoping the people nearby us won’t notice. We each have flaws we focus in on, minute details that burrow deep inside, keeping us up at night wishing we could be different.
I’m not faulting you for being human and having very human feelings.
But there are certain things you can control. There are things you could stop doing.
Your cruelty isn’t funny. Cruelty never is.
And I’m sure you don’t mean to be harsh. Or at least, I’d hope not. I’d hope you never aim to hurt people’s feelings. I’d hope your heart is more empathetic than that.
But when your first instinct is to make fun of someone, be it a friend or stranger you see on the street, all it does is reinforce what I first thought.
Instead of taking ownership of your feelings and worries, you lash out at others.
Instead of admitting you’re scared of being vulnerable, you laugh at people who are excited or passionate about something you’ve deemed stupid.
Instead of working on yourself, you pick apart everyone else you see.
I know it has to come from a place of hurt. That’s what bullies do, they hurt because they’re hurt.
I hope you can eventually be better than this. I hope you can find a way to be funny without tearing people down. I hope you can discover the difference between humor and making fun of people for no good reason.
I think you can. But for the record, as of now I don’t find you funny. You’re just mean.