I’m a martyr. A suffering, silent martyr at that. Except right now, of course, when I break my silence to let you know. I suffer. I suffer more than most. I suffer for righteousness sake, as well, not just the common, “Ooo, ooo, my neck hurts” kind of martyrdom.
Granted I have never been crucified, burned at a stake, or beaten forty times minus one, but I would have if given the chance. And gladly, at that.
My martyr abilities have mostly gone unnoticed, hence the reason I must now break my long-suffering silence. No one has seen or in any other sensical way observed my sufferings, which does not mean they are not real, it only means people don’t pay attention to me, which is yet another form of martyrdom.
I have advanced in martyrological skills over the years, having now received my honorary Masters in Martyrology. The school I attended is thinking of adding on a martyrology wing called the “Martyrly Weddle’s Martyr Wing of Martyrdom.” It has seven rooms, two bathrooms, and a lounge.
It will not be air-conditioned.
I thank you all for being so self-centered so as to give me things to be martyred for. It is only because of you and your little worlds that I was able to reach such pinnacles of martyrdom. I owe it all to you, as I am nothing but a silently suffering worm of a man.
Only God knows the depths of my suffering and He has let me know how inadequate they are, in comparison to Him, of course, not in comparison to you.
Hark, I believe someone else has besmirched my character in a tragically offensive way. I must leave you all to your busy little lives as I go pray in my closet for your souls. Blessings on you.