“Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them.”
Oof. That one stings, doesn’t it?
In a culture that treats oversharing like a sacred rite and trauma-dumping as a social handshake, this rule shows up like a chainsaw at a therapy circle. It doesn’t whisper. It growls—shut the hell up until you know someone actually gives a damn.
Let’s dissect this black pearl of Satanic wisdom, and scrape away the clingy fingers of victim culture while we’re at it.
Trauma Porn and the Age of Oversharing
Let’s be real: not every ache deserves airtime. Not every frustration is an epic poem. And not every social interaction is an open mic night for your emotional baggage.
Social media has turned misery into currency. Cry into a ring light, hashtag your heartbreak, and wait for the dopamine drip of fake empathy. Bonus points if you’re vague and dramatic enough to bait a “U OK hun?” from people who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.
Rule #2 is the antidote to this infection. It says: Your suffering isn’t sacred just because it’s yours.
It’s not censorship. It’s discernment.
You want to unload? Fine. But make damn sure the person on the receiving end isn’t just a prop in your one-act pity parade.
Misery Is Not a Personality
Let’s call it what it is: emotional exhibitionism.
You’ve met these people. Hell, maybe you’ve been these people. The ones who treat every interaction like a therapy session you didn’t consent to. The ones who think their pain gives them a free pass to hijack conversations, dominate space, and cast themselves as the eternally misunderstood antihero.
Satanism doesn’t coddle that behavior. It doesn’t put misery on a pedestal and hand you a participation trophy for suffering.
You want compassion? Offer respect.
You want attention? Earn it—don’t demand it through passive-aggressive venting and crocodile tears.
And if you’re constantly talking about your problems without checking if someone wants to hear them?
You’re not venting. You’re dumping.
And that’s not Satanic. That’s selfish.
Consent Isn’t Just Physical
Like Rule #1, Rule #2 is about boundaries. Emotional ones.
If you wouldn’t barge into someone’s home uninvited, why the hell would you barge into their mental space?
Being emotionally raw is fine. Being vulnerable is human. But dumping your agony on someone without permission? That’s emotional assault dressed up as honesty.
Check in. Ask. Gauge the room. Better yet—build relationships strong enough that they’ll ask how you’re doing before you even need to unload.
Because when someone does want to hear your troubles? That’s when healing can actually happen.
But if you're just shouting into the void, demanding sympathy from whoever's too polite to run—you're not healing. You're bleeding on people who didn’t cut you.
🔥 Master Your Misery, Don’t Milk It
Rule #2 demands emotional accountability.
It doesn't say "never speak of your pain." It says know your damn audience. Respect other people’s mental bandwidth. Recognize that dumping pain into the world without aim is just another form of narcissism.
You’re not the only one hurting.
And Satanism isn’t about competing for who’s the most broken. It’s about owning your scars, not weaponizing them.
So next time you feel the urge to spill your guts to a captive audience—pause. Ask yourself: Do they want this? Did they invite this? Am I adding value, or just vomiting for applause?
If you’re not sure—they probably don’t. And that’s your cue to zip it.
💣 If They Didn’t Ask, It’s Not Sharing—It’s Hostage-Taking
There’s a difference between being authentic and being emotionally incontinent.
“Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them.”
That’s not cold. That’s respect.
Respect for others. Respect for yourself. And respect for the weight your words carry.
Because in Satanism, your pain is yours to master—not your excuse to be the center of every room.
Embrace who you are. Live your best possible life. Conquer your perceived world.
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