Let's have a meeting

Ninny.

You stink. You're distracted, lazy and overall, disappointing. I once believed in you and now don't - at all. What made you valuable all along has been finely scrutinized (Yes even when you didn't feel watched, turd furburger) and you're deficient in nearly every way possible, and in others on the tip of my tongue, barely conceived but confident in their eventual birth for your idiocy and incompetence.

I'd like you to cry.

What I mean to say is, it would make me gleeful if you wept at my displeasure and judgement of your palsied character. Please? It's hard to keep you from crying every day, so how about sparing me this self-effacing attempt at composure.

What, are you holding on to your dignity?

You see in order to have dignity, one has to have to have something of value, like skills, or an interesting world-view or even a hot mate. None of the above? Precisely. You're welling up. There you go, scum sucking pot-sticker. Feeling bad? Good, now we're getting somewhere.

The you inside of you that feels like it's dying inside every day? Yeah, that little guy. Oh, that's been out in the open there for quite some time. SURPRISE! Can you only imagine what it's been like for us? All of the little secrets and covenants that you keep with yourself ending in "...and that's why they'll never know!" We knew. We always knew. It was like it was tattooed on your forehead, "NOT EVEN A CHARITY CASE - KICK MY ASS ON AN EMOTIONAL LEVEL SO IT REALLY HURTS. I'M A BOTTOMLESS PIT FOR THAT."

Hey peach fuzz, don't go anywhere, we're just getting to the good stuff. C'mere and get up on my lap. Take a sucker. Make sure you're comfy, this'll take a while.