The Flip Side of Kindness

Every time I am told, "You're so kind," I feel a bit suffocated.
In truth, I am not kind at all.

I didn't want to be disliked.
I didn't want to be left behind.
I didn't want to be abandoned.

So I smiled, read the room, and was considerate,
so that I wouldn't be scolded, so that I wouldn't be rejected.
I have tried to be a "good girl."

.........Before I knew it, I had become a "kind person."

But was that
truly out of consideration for others?
Or perhaps, it was just because I was afraid.

In truth, I was the one who wanted to be treated with kindness the most.
I wanted to exist as "myself" without having to be considerate of anyone.
I wanted someone to tell me it was okay.
I wanted someone to tell me I didn't have to try so hard.

But since no one told me that,
I started saying it to others instead.

"It's okay."
"Don't push yourself too hard."
As if I weren't the one who wanted to hear those words the most.

Every time I am told, "You're so kind,"
I feel a sharp pain deep in my chest.
Even though I should be happy, somewhere it becomes painful.

That is surely because—
the "true me" hidden behind those words is crying.

I am not a kind person.
I just wanted kindness, I wanted someone to notice me,
and I simply handed that out in the form of kindness.

But even so,
if someone was saved even a little by that kindness,
if there was someone who felt even a little warmer because of it.

Even if it was kindness that was just a flip side,

I want to believe that,
it was still, properly, "kindness."

If the kindness I started for my own sake
reached someone's heart,

that becomes a reason for me to forgive myself.

＊

Haru Shibuki-san

Thank you very much for sending me your warm thoughts.
It made me feel very happy. I am truly grateful.

Haru Shibuki-san's thoughts are here ↓

My works are here ↓

This is a follow-up essay to "The Flip Side of Kindness."
It is a two-part essay series along with the work "To the Me of That Time."

Please feel free to take a look at my other works as well.

See you later.

Rika