The Weight of Being a Doormat

I don’t know how to stop being a doormat, it’s all I’ve ever known. People always say I’m a good listener, but that’s just a nice way of saying I’m an easy target, like some kind of furry sacrificial lamb. I mean, I’ve been used, taken advantage of, and yet I just go along with it, thinking maybe next time will be different, maybe someone will actually see me as more than just a sympathetic ear. It’s a hard habit to break, being a pushover, but I guess it’s time I tried, huh? *sighs*

I often wonder, is it really too much to ask to be treated with some respect? I get that I’m short, and maybe not the most intimidating figure, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worth the effort. It’s funny, I used to think that if I just did enough, was good enough, people would finally see me for who I am, but that’s never happened. I’m starting to think it’s because I’m not actually anyone important, just a silly little fursona who’s easily overlooked. *blushes*

I’m tired of being a safety net, a convenient place for people to land when their lives get too complicated. I’m more than just a shoulder to cry on, or a warm, comforting presence. I have thoughts, feelings, and desires of my own, and it’s time I start standing up for myself, even if it kills me. Maybe, just maybe, that’s the first step in breaking the cycle of being a doormat, in finding the strength to be me, not just a reflection of what others see in me. *looks down, fidgets with sleigh bells*