HOW KINDNESS BECAME A CONTRACT
𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪
I have been sitting with this for a while because I never wanted to hurt anybody.
I do not think she is a bad person.
I do not think I am heartless.
I think two people can be hurting at the same time and still not be good for each other.
That is something I am learning.
I know what it is like to want to be loved. I know what it is like to be lonely. I know what it is like to want someone to understand you when the rest of the world feels heavy. I know what it is like to hold on to people because you are afraid of being left behind.
But I also know what it feels like when somebody else’s pain slowly starts becoming your responsibility.
And somewhere along the way, kindness started feeling like an obligation.
I never meant for that to happen.
I never promised forever.
I never promised commitment.
I never promised to carry anyone.
I thought we were simply talking. I thought we were two people trying to make it through life and finding comfort in conversation. Nothing more and nothing less.
But feelings grew, and suddenly I felt guilty for not feeling the same way.
And guilt is a terrible reason to stay.
Love should never have to be forced.
It should never have to be begged for.
And it should never make another person feel trapped.
I watched someone I cared about struggle.
I watched hospital visits, relapses, arguments, and chaos. I listened to painful voicemails. I witnessed behaviors that scared me and reminded me of things I have spent years trying to heal from.
I forgave a lot because forgiveness comes naturally to me.
But forgiveness and trust are not the same thing.
Compassion and responsibility are not the same thing.
And caring about somebody does not mean sacrificing your own peace.
That was a hard lesson for me.
Because I have spent much of my life believing I had to save people.
I grew up around manipulation. I grew up around guilt. I learned early that love sometimes came with conditions and emotional burdens. So when somebody hands me their pain, my first instinct is to carry it.
But I am learning that some things were never mine to carry.
Recovery belongs to the person recovering.
Healing belongs to the person healing.
Love belongs to two people, not one.
No human being should become another person’s entire world.
That is too much pressure.
I do not blame her for wanting love.
I do not blame myself for needing peace.
Maybe we were both searching for something neither one of us could give the other.
Maybe she wanted certainty.
Maybe I wanted simplicity.
Maybe we both wanted comfort.
And maybe neither of us realized how much pain we were bringing into the room.
I hope she finds healing.
Not because I owe it to her, but because I genuinely wish that for her.
And I hope I continue learning that having boundaries does not make me cruel.
Because love should never feel like a rescue mission.
And kindness should never feel like a life sentence.
Sometimes the kindest thing two hurting people can do is stop expecting each other to be God.
And sometimes the greatest act of love is accepting that not everybody who enters your life is meant to stay.
Some people come to teach us.
Some people come to wake us up.
And some people come to remind us that healing is a personal journey nobody else can walk for us.
I just finally understand that I cannot carry both of us.
And maybe that lesson was meant for the both of us.
Sometimes loving someone means praying for their healing from a distance. And sometimes healing means learning that compassion does not require self-sacrifice. The butterfly is still becoming.”
Until the next chapter of becoming……
⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪
