Speak Kindly to Me

Speak kindly to me, as I also speak kindly to myself.

I am not one to be self-obsessed, self-absorbed, or to see myself above others. That is not why I ask to be spoken kindly to.

I have endured continuous, constant, never-ending days of being spoken unkindly to.

A joke here and there is fine, 2-3 times per day is enough; but 1 after another becomes abusive.

It’s exhausting. It’s draining. It’s a slow death.

Speak kindly to me, as I try really hard to speak kindly to myself.

I’m tired of being tapped by a hammer and being told “it’s not that bad, you’re just sensitive.”

How worthless am I to be tapped by a hammer, anyway?

1 tap, 2 taps, 3 — it only leaves a tiny bruise, it makes you laugh and feel good about yourself, so the bruise is worth it.

4 taps, 5 taps, 6 taps, 7 — it keeps going day after day. I am nothing, I am no-one, I am worthless.

Now it’s time to grab the hammer myself and hide.

Now it’s time to punish myself for being so ugly, disgusting, and dumb. I’m a loser, boring, pathetic, and at fault for how unsuccessful I am in life.

I know it’s just words, but it must be true.

Look at my circumstances, look at how men treat me regardless of how I behave, what I wear, or what I say; look at how alone I am because once someone speaks down to me, I fade them from my life as much as possible. If so many people do it, the words must be true. If so many treat me as worthless, I must be.

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Speak kindly to me, for I can no longer do it for myself. I’m lost, gone, only physically existent — and even in this manner, here comes the hammer.