It is a rare thing to completely trust and to fully exhibit it too. The gratitude for such rarity is expressed inadequately mostly, but rather hypocritically thanked more than enough with all the words that is said or used. The exhibition of this sort of trust is at best unequalled. It puts the object of it in a serious strait, within the dilemma of trusting fully or just a little bit. Where trust has been clearly replaced with hate there is always a sort of lingering discomfort, ushered into the picture. It is one that cannot be fathomed by the victim until it visibly presents itself as something tangibly painful in the heart of its cruel perpetrators.
The conception of masters is mostly that of people who delight and rejoice in inflicting sufferings on their subordinates, not the chubby homely nurses who aid struggling colleagues in soothing their personal pains. This presumption is mainly based on the view of subordinates, who think all their masters’ hard responsibilities over them, with all the advantages their masters have over them, are not necessary ills, but all just utterly cruel bullying. It is obviously quite a subjective opinion not readily accepted or entertained by the masters’ own similarly bias versions.
Nothing educates a teething subordinate like that age old and seemingly overt situation of pure adversity, which would constantly lord over what it presents itself as. The overlaying setting is meant to be at the verge of a deeply sincere feeling of remorseful envy. The subordinates’ perception is utterly bias, as is their masters’, such that the perpetual atmosphere of quieted distrust soils their separate thoughts of one another. It deepens their knowledge of excusable vulgarities with an awareness that was more harmful to each of them than they realized it is.
Inscrutable old issues are rankled with reluctance to simple acceptance for offered educated civility and modern advancement, which is clearly rejoiced in subsequently.