Escaping the alpha dog pile

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You make a self-deprecating joke to lighten the mood or bring a chuckle to the room.

“Huh… What an idiot,” he sneers under his voice.

Undeterred, you eventually make another one.

“Oh, geez. There’s one in every group,” he yammers. “How stupid.”

He thinks. You’re f*king. Serious.

Your ego is now on full-kill mode. Lizard brain: activated. If you had a stone axe at arm’s reach, you’d likely wield it with the expertise of a neanderthal.

But violence would only turn this sadomasochist on. He might be a clinger.

Do it again. The pain feels so… Good.

We wouldn’t want that now, would we?

But this is the guy. The ‘guy in every group’ — as he so eloquently referred to you as. The vermin looking for any sign of weakness to pounce. The alpha dog constantly looking for a proverbial hydrant to piss on.

The next day, it’s better. You can now likely see this man for what he is.

A flawed, tortured, floundering specimen at his very own level of unfoldment trying to edge his way up the alpha dogpile that he’s made out of his life.

It takes zero ninja skills to give this specimen of human the fight they want — that they live for. To uphold their fragile ego, built on a thick layer of scar tissue from past emotional bouts with poorer souls.

Or, you can walk right by their cage. The gnashing of teeth can’t hurt you unless you open it up and get in with them. You can leave that nonsense to the ones who match the low vibrational pull they emit.


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