Pity is a Might of Evil

She pitied me...
like, she came to my house and pitied me.

No, no... she meant well, I believe.
And that is where the problem lies.
They mean well, they believe they are helping, they mean well, they mean well, they mean well.
But that's the whole thing.
The second they adopt the mindset of "I'm helping this person" and start thinking themselves well, in that underlying hint they feel—not knowing it, subconsciously—of indulging in the pity. "Oh, poor soul," and whether they are helping me or not, they think they do well by pitying me.
If they genuinely wanted to help me, they wouldn't say, "I'm here when you need me to be, please come, please come."
The minute they—the second they—start pitying me, any care on their part, any care, loses its value.
No matter the fact that they mean well, the fact that they do it because they mean well, because they pity me, loses its value.

And it's not tied to "What about me? What about my value? Do you like me for me and hang out with me for me or because you pity me and feel bad for me in that way?" No, it's not even about that.
The sole thing it's about is pity. It's not about "because they are pitying me they don't value me" or "don't hang out because they want to." It's solely about the feeling of pity. Not what it might convey—just the pity.

The minute I see it, everything is gone.
And it's so sad, so utterly disappointing.
Because they're all like that.
They're all the same.

I hang out with them, they get to know me, they like me, and they do things for me, with me.
They start being extra nice, suddenly doing more things.
Perfectly acceptable and nice things a friend would do, and it is a friend.
But then
one day
in the midst of walking by in this scenario,
I catch a glimpse in a moment of passion.
I look at their eyes.

They think I don't notice.
They are beyond that, a higher power lending me a hand.
But I see.

I appreciate you, I really do.
But the second your curiosity dips in pity, this exchange is over.
You have decided that you will mean well.

You think I don't notice.
You are beyond that, a higher power lending me a hand.
But I see.

And all the things you did serve to pain me.

I see the glimpse of pity in their eyes.
And then all of the good things they did,
all of the well-meaning they meant,
none of them lose their good nature and well-meaning,
but they lose what is most important.

They lose their true value.
And go from something that is a positive, normal friendship making me happy as equals
into serving to make me feel
not angry,
nor sad,
but a disgust, a discomfort, a huzursuzluk in my heart, like what one true soul would say as they realize their friends are robbing a bank in the middle of the robbery when they realize that the intent of buying a necklace was a tale covering up the true purpose of robbing the bank—"this isn't right..."

Thus, everything they did, all the good things, all the positive friendship formed,
it all serves to pain me.