Good people

“And Jesus said unto him, “Why callest thou Me good? There is none good but One, that is, God.”

Mark 10:18

No one has a victim complex like a human who thinks that they are a good person.

Their goodness is not a way of being, but a costume stitched from guilt and performance.

They suffer not because they are wronged, but because the world refuses to see their halo.

Every disagreement becomes an act of betrayal, every boundary an assault on their fragile myth.

They speak in tones of wounded righteousness, always surprised that their intentions don’t absolve their impact.

Their self-image is a shrine, and your discomfort is sacrilege.

They will cry for the pain they caused you, but only if it can still orbit their need to be the protagonist.

They use compassion as currency, love as leverage, and humility as a brand.

The moment you stop reassuring them, they label you ungrateful, cold, unkind.

They forgive like emperors, expect praise for simply not retaliating.

They call their control "concern" and their manipulation "protection."

They remember every time they gave, never how they took.

When confronted, they do not reflect, they recoil, collapse, and weaponize their hurt to be seen without the filter of sainthood feels like violence to them.

Their grief is never about your pain, only about losing their image of themselves.

They do not seek reconciliation, only restoration of their role as the benevolent one.

Accountability tastes like poison, so they spit it out and call it injustice.

They do not want to be understood, they want to be adored, even in their failure.

And if you walk away, they will whisper to the void that good people like them are always the ones left bleeding.