Nobody else is more interesting than ourselves. When we’re looking at pictures, the first person we look for is us. When we hear about something, the first thing come to our minds is if it’s going to affect us. If it’s unfortunate, then hopefully it’s not us. Intuitively accepted. Part of our instinct of defense.

It will then become ethically wrong if the unfortunate is not us, then we are -not only relieved but also- happy to see others’ hardship. I mean, how low is our self esteem so that we cannot be happy if other people are happy? How insecure ourselves are when we can only be happy by seeing other -that we may dislike- is suffering. It’s a pity, don’t you think?

There are times when vengeful feeling overcomes. For ourselves or for the people we care about. But it will become incomprehensible when we throw hatred to people we have no business with (anymore) unless for one explanation: we must have had a very awful life. God, please save these miserable souls.

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