You know what I’ve noticed?
Sometimes, the people who know you best… are the ones who hurt you first.
They’re the ones who laugh when you stumble,
who roll their eyes when you struggle,
who judge you like they’ve been appointed as some kind of moral jury over your life.

And it’s strange, isn’t it?
Because you’d think they’d be the ones to understand.
They’ve seen where you’ve come from,
they’ve watched you fight battles they couldn’t survive,
they know the weight you’ve carried—
and yet, they’re the first to tear you down.

Why is it…
that when life trips us,
when we’re down in the dirt,
there’s always someone watching—
not to help,
but to laugh?

It’s almost like they’ve been waiting for it.
Like our struggle is their entertainment.
They see our pain not as something human,
but as a spectacle.
A punchline.
A free show to boost their mood for the day.

You lose a job—
they snicker.
You fail a project—
they smirk.
You fall apart in public—
and suddenly, you’re the hottest topic in their group chat.

What is it about other people’s misfortunes
that makes some feel powerful?
Is it because they’re afraid of their own failures?
So they laugh at yours,
thinking it’ll keep the spotlight off them?
Is it because they can’t stand to see someone rise—
so when you stumble,
it feels like proof they were right to doubt you?

And sometimes… it’s even people we’ve laughed with,
shared meals with,
trusted with our stories.
You’d think they’d be the first to pull you back up.
But no—
they’re the ones who spread the story,
add exaggerations,
make sure everyone knows not just that you fell…
but how “hilarious” it looked.

Meanwhile, strangers—
people who don’t know your name,
don’t know your history,
don’t owe you a single thing—
reach out.
They offer help,
kindness,
a word of encouragement… without conditions, without keeping score.
It’s almost embarrassing,
realizing a stranger can treat you better than the ones you grew up with.

And maybe it’s because strangers meet you in the moment.
They see your need, not your past.
They don’t measure your worth by your mistakes,
or weigh your request against the gossip they’ve heard.
They just… help.

Proverbs 24:17 warns us:
“Do not gloat when your enemy falls;
when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice.”
But these people?
They rejoice, alright—
not just in their hearts, but out loud,
like your hardship is a festival.

What they don’t realize is this:
misfortune is a visitor that knocks on every door.
Today, it’s mine.
Tomorrow… it could be theirs.
And when that day comes,
when the ground disappears under their feet,
they’ll remember how it felt to be laughed at—
how the echoes of mockery sting louder than silence.

So I’ve stopped wasting my energy trying to explain my pain
to those who turn it into comedy.
Because one day,
life will give them a stage of their own.
And when they finally taste the bitterness they once served so freely…
no one will be laughing.