Subtitle: Congrats on that small, hollow victory. May your therapist ask the hard questions.
There exists a certain species of human—not a villain, not a sociopath, just aggressively mediocre—who’s learned how to use empathy the way a toddler uses screaming: shamelessly to get what they want.
They come to you with trembling voices, sad stories, suspicious timing, and a look in their eyes like they’re about to ask if your soul accepts Venmo. And you—possessor of actual humanity—know what they’re doing. You see it in the first syllable. You even tell everyone supports them that you see the guilt trip they are manufacturing, you see the emotional bait dangling like a worm with Wi-Fi access.
And yet… you cave.
You let them win.
Not because you’re stupid.
Not because you’re weak.
But because you’re cursed with this annoying thing called conscience. Ugh. Gross.
Even with a 99% certainty that they’re full of it, that 1% sliver of possibility—that they might actually be in trouble—makes you stop. Think. Consider. Because heaven forbid you accidentally hurt a liar and ruin your own moral sleep cycle.
They take the win and strut off like they pulled off Ocean’s Eleven.
“Wow, I manipulated them. I’m amazing, laughs everywhere.”
What’s worse? They try again. They run the same tired script like you didn’t notice the first time. As if you’re a dim-witted side character in their emotionally exploitative Netflix reboot.
Let’s be clear: they’re not fooling you.
You’re letting them have it. Because you’re playing a different game. The game where your soul doesn’t curdle under fluorescent lights.
So let them have their petty win. Let them think they’re clever. You’ve got bigger things to do—like not becoming them.
