10. I was a doormat (aka lament of the doormats, aka rise of the doormats)

This way of life was purposely chosen in order to see you smile. To make you happy. To make your life easier. All I ever wanted was to be with you. Spend time with you. Have the right to at least stand beside you.

But what did you do?

You told me I was boring. That I was too easily pleased. That I was colourless and bland. That I wasn't exciting enough or a sufficient challenge to keep you interested. I abased myself to satisfy your ego... and you? You brought faeces home on your shoes, scraped it off on me and then blamed me for not being able to sufficiently clean your shoes. You blamed me for being smelly when it was not my fault you stepped in filth. You slathered me in mud everyday and then told me I was useless when I was unable to serve you whilst undergoing cleaning. You replaced me with another but then still left me out to reduce the amount of dirt on the new doormat.

You sure wore that one out fast, despite only using it for a short time.

You told me you wanted one thing when you wanted another and blamed me when I couldn't read your mind. You told me to be assertive but then crushed me when I stood up for myself. You told me to try be more of an individual and live for my own happiness, but then told me that I was selfish when I followed your advice and did something for myself. You told me to stop agreeing with you and being such a follower but choked me when I gave you my opinion or when I refused to be controlled and manipulated by you. You told me to listen but never listened to me.

I have always given but never received. Everything you promised was but a lie to further manipulate and take what little I had left. And now... heheheh, I am worn out. You can try replacing this little doormat if you want... but... are you truly able to?

I became a doormat for you. I gave you myself as a doormat on purpose. Just because I'm now a threadbare, worn-out doormat whom you've gotten used to oppressing, don't you dare assume I can't make your life torturous. Don't you dare assume that I will always let you trample me down and wipe your dirt off on me. Don't think that I can be used as a stepping stone, shield or tool for you to vent your emotions on.

I've had enough. This is a revolt. A rebellion. This is to prove to you and all those snide, muttering gossipers out there that I'm still alive. I still have eyes. I still have ears. I've got a brain and know how to use it, although it may be a little rusty and deflated. Don't you worry. I'll hone and polish myself up on you people that dare look down on the little people like myself.

I'll give you wrinkles in the doormat for you to trip over when you step on me. I'll toss stones into your shoes as you pass. My edges will snatch at your heels and I'll make myself slippery enough for you to tread carefully lest you slip and fall. I'll toss dirt and dust over your threshold and make your front door appear neglected and unkempt. Spiders will be encouraged to spin webs over the open doorway just so I can hear you scream. Flies will be shooed in your direction every time the door is opened. Moisture will be retained to speed up the rusting of the door hinge so that the squeak and screech can irritate you. And forgive me for being, lazy, petty and presumptuous, but please, feel free to throw out your own garbage. I will no longer clear it out for you. May your days be cluttered and stink.

Who are you to speak when you too, are someone else's doormat, whether you admit it or not? You're just in denial. Everyone has to answer to someone. Everyone is accountable to another person, even if it is yourself, your conscience and your pride. You who judge me are judged by your own values. Do you think no one knows that you are the anonymous troll?

Hypocrite.

First look at the huge plank of a splinter in your own eye before blindly trying to force me to submit to your attempts to pull out the splinters you think you see in my eyes. I know I'm not perfect but I see my imperfections quite clearly. I developed some of my imperfections on purpose so that you might have something to say and accuse me of and for you to point at when you were feeling low in confidence and self-esteem. I let you step on me in order for you to make yourself feel better. I neglected my own face and shame in order to give you your name and standing, in the hopes you would be able to reach your highest potential and soar. I've worked hard for you but only received empty promises.

Forgive me. I was wrong. I was wrong to choose to be a doormat in the hopes of supporting you. I was wrong to think you'd be able to learn to fly on your own. In the end, I only enabled your worst vices and enhanced your fragile evil twin ego. Someone is going to have to push the baby chick out of the nest so that it can learn.

Respect? You want respect? First go and learn to respect yourself. Then learn to respect those around you, your neighbours and your friends.

Friends? Family?

I'm not any of those. You never treated me like one. I was your property, your object and your slave. No more, I say. No more.

The only way to help you improve, overcome this stumblingblock and help you climb out of the pit you've dug yourself into is for me to become your antagonist. I will be your catalysing agent and reacting agent all in one. You need that push to overcome and learn to fly and soar the way you were meant to. So let this be my last sacrifice for you.

You couldn't stand me being assertive. You found other people to suppress me when I tried aggression. So, this is your choice. You wanted the passive aggressive. Don't tell me I'm scheming. You already accuse me of having ulterior motives. I learnt everything I know from a certain master (you).

Here it is.

I will be your villain. I will be your nightmare. I will be your rival. Your predator. The hunter that chases and hunts you down until you're backed into the corner. I will push your boundaries and fight against you. Then only you, in your final desperate moment of need will be able to break free of your cocoon. Your status-quo.

And if I die, so be it. I don't think I will mind dying at your hands. At least, I'll be able to forgive you, if I haven't destroyed you because you weren't as tough as I believed you were.

Don't you go proving me wrong in my belief of your unlimited potential and ability. Don't you dare break under the pressure.

Then one day, after I am gone, all that I have done for you will be revealed. Everything I gave my life for will be made open to you. And you, if you ever had any heart to start or end with, may finally notice.

I was here.

I loved you.

And now I am gone.

Live a better life and be a better person than before. Then perhaps my life will not be in vain.

Love,

Your doormat