Worthy

 As if any of these people mattered, he still kept judging his actions, his habits and his thoughts by the barely real representations of others. He knew they weren't real. He knew the mundane existed in each and every single one of their lives yet he still judged himself as if he was the stain under their shoes. Looked and talked down on himself as if he had no qualities whatsoever, as if he could not amount to anything at all. He knew that there were accomplishments of his own that were yearned by others. Knew that there were qualities unique to him that put him in a rare percentage of people. Yet he still judged and loathed himself heavily. Maybe it was this self-loathing that took him on this path of creative expression, maybe it was his judgement that placed him in this unique spot. Still, he wondered. Still, the judgement and the loathing weighed heavily on his shoulders and slowed him down to a halt. He knew not what to do. All he knew was; he needed help and he was not worthy of it.