You know it's weird - I never mind when other people complain, but when I complain, it, it's, well. It's disgusting, almost. It is disgusting. I disgust myself. Complaining is just self-pity that you broadcast.
Yet I don't quite understand the disgust. Because when other people complain, it doesn't sicken me to hear it. Quite the opposite. I hear their cry and I pity them. Their plight. Well, "compassion" is more how I'd put it - not "pity!" People hate pity. But really, is there a more-than-merely-polite distinction, there? Isn't it simply pity? Pity's pithier. When did pity get such a bad name?
"I don't want your pity!" we snap - scornful of pity! When did we become so pitiless, so merciless towards ourselves? So ruthless. When did we decide to hate the pity and charity of others? Why take offense, when we know we are piteous? We are pathetic. Pitiable.
Still. I admit, I don't like to hear myself complain. But I think it is not because I object to being piteous. It isn't that self-pity is so hideous, so contemptible. It's just this: self-pity is redundant. There's no reason to complain - no point in broadcasting self-pity, when I've already got my own full and entire compassion. I already have total sympathy, deep and complete pity, for me.
Don't worry, I've got plenty left over for you too, pal.