Kindness, much like love, can be fleeting in a cold world. Sometimes you see a spark. Sometimes there is nothing there and it is hard to believe it ever was.
[ his father, with his hand on his shoulder. his father who clawed into his chest, giving him a mark that'll never heal. his father who looks at him one last time, "I'm killing my boy. The greatest gift you ever gave me. I must already be dead." ]
It matters not if you are a kind person. It matters more that you try to be. You may even fail. We all do, sometimes.
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Kindness, much like love, can be fleeting in a cold world. Sometimes you see a spark. Sometimes there is nothing there and it is hard to believe it ever was.
[ his father, with his hand on his shoulder. his father who clawed into his chest, giving him a mark that'll never heal. his father who looks at him one last time, "I'm killing my boy. The greatest gift you ever gave me. I must already be dead." ]
It matters not if you are a kind person. It matters more that you try to be. You may even fail. We all do, sometimes.