Why Kindness is a Burden.

I have been told by many I am kind, I am nice. Just learnt that I’m considered by my friend that I am too kind, too nice. So much so that they can’t think of me, can’t like me. I do not understand this.

I am too optimistic, I am, doesn’t mean I see the world as sunshine and roses, as they may say. But I choose to try to make others happy, to in turn, make myself happy.

How am I to blame for that?

Why am I hated for that?

Why am I told I’m inadequate, faulty, or broken for that?

I am not delusional, or at least I don’t think so, for trying to make people happy, to merely be kind, to help people, to be nice.

This is shit. Kindness is a burden on oneself, it’s work. Work against everything, work against your own feelings when life shits on you, against others when they treat you like trash. But you persevere trying to make one person a little happier, to make the world a little brighter.

Then only to be told you’re at fault for that, broken for this, faulty. This isnt a good thing to hear at the best of times, let alone with all the trouble, all the strife and all the pain of being kind and helping others.

Someone explain how being kind, being nice, being a kind human being (as much as we can help to be) is so difficult, so hated, so despised.

It makes all the fighting hell, all the pain not worth taking.

Why is everything you are hated. Even if it’s the best of who you are. The best you can be. The best you can give.

Why is it hated. Why is it despised. Why is it ripped from you and you’re left exposed and told that you’re faulty.

 

Trying to be convinced you’re faulty, that life is shit, that everything is shit. Nothing is worth it. It’s hard to take and brush off, but then, they try to convince you so and wreck you with it.

I was not broken.

You broke me.

Smashed me into bits.

Took my core beliefs, shreaded them in front of me.

Despite my conviction trying to piece them together again.

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