We accept pity here. In fact, we prefer it. Keeping entirely in one's head means less overhead. I wasn't sure of myself until you told me I was suffering. I wasn't acting to begin with, but you have inspired me to consider visibility. It's the comfort afforded the helpless that turns 'making a living' into a true creative act. Where once there was only life and honest (if unpleasant) expression, the temptation to perform has grown. It's not my first choice as much as it has appeared to become the most direct route to the goal. Who wouldn't follow such a route? Stepping forth into an ever more pitifully bright spotlight.
And what has been purchased? An exaggeration that is now more reality than it ever should have been. A small return to childhood by way of the only path still open thereto. Oh desperate maturity that feels its powers underdeveloped and its fruits dying on the vine—how could you not eventually consider mimicking cradle-sent cries that promise the most cost-efficient means of attaining attention and comfort?
Friends, it says much about you when you do, but don't offer such people your tears. Like a drink to an alcoholic, just one tear will never suffice. And before you know it, your good intentions have defined a babbling age.