There are people in this world too kind to turn a blind eye when they know they have the potential to help.
Adversely, there are people in this world too devoid of conscience to stop themselves from milking that compassion for all its worth.
It sickens me to hear about people taking advantage of the kindness of others. The pure thought of using someone for their willingness to give is immoral and wrought with greed and the idea of deservedness (which, ironically, is seldom the case). Most people willing to abuse someone's pure-hearted goodness generally aren't deserving of it to begin with.
The sad thing is, this happens all the time. I gave money to a homeless person once on my way home. I was a bit richer that day than usual because I hadn't had lunch. The next week, things were financially tighter for me -- I couldn't even afford to eat lunch, and he asked me again. This time I politely said, "sorry, I can't afford it today," and he scoffed at me. As if I don't have my own financial burdens to bear.
Just because mine don't show, does not mean I'm living lavishly. I have my debts, I have my struggles. And even still, most days I'd put food on your table if you needed me to. And I get that quality from my parents.
I know I'll be able to make it until my next paycheck. And I also know I can afford to give a little to someone who needs it. And most days, I'll take your word for it.
But the more I hear about this epidemic of greed and deservedness, the less I care to give. I have no independents. No one is entitled to what I work so incredibly hard for except myself. If I chose to give, it is because I want to and can. Not because anyone else deserves what I have to offer.
I'm sitting in my living room right now, taking a look at this home I've created with Jon-Michael and I'm shaken by the knowledge that I've worked so hard to get to this point and, ironically, I'm working so hard to keep it, we seldom get the time to enjoy it together.
And sullenly, this reminds me of my parents. Them, with their beautiful home on this majestic reservoir in the country, with their three children raised and happy, and yet, they still work so hard to call it home. They have so much to be proud of and such great accomplishments to show for their lives, yet seldom they get to sit in that house and soak up the serene, natural silence of the forest without some interruption.
If it's any indication of what my future may be, I'd rather my parents be recluses in their home in the woods, have no obligations to tend, and no voids to fill in the lives of others unless and until they wanted, than to think they've worked this hard for this long to still not be able to enjoy the fruits of their labors without feeling obligated or pressured into helping people the way I do.
I, as well as they, deserve far better than to be misused because of our kindness.
Adversely, there are people in this world too devoid of conscience to stop themselves from milking that compassion for all its worth.
It sickens me to hear about people taking advantage of the kindness of others. The pure thought of using someone for their willingness to give is immoral and wrought with greed and the idea of deservedness (which, ironically, is seldom the case). Most people willing to abuse someone's pure-hearted goodness generally aren't deserving of it to begin with.
The sad thing is, this happens all the time. I gave money to a homeless person once on my way home. I was a bit richer that day than usual because I hadn't had lunch. The next week, things were financially tighter for me -- I couldn't even afford to eat lunch, and he asked me again. This time I politely said, "sorry, I can't afford it today," and he scoffed at me. As if I don't have my own financial burdens to bear.
Just because mine don't show, does not mean I'm living lavishly. I have my debts, I have my struggles. And even still, most days I'd put food on your table if you needed me to. And I get that quality from my parents.
I know I'll be able to make it until my next paycheck. And I also know I can afford to give a little to someone who needs it. And most days, I'll take your word for it.
But the more I hear about this epidemic of greed and deservedness, the less I care to give. I have no independents. No one is entitled to what I work so incredibly hard for except myself. If I chose to give, it is because I want to and can. Not because anyone else deserves what I have to offer.
I'm sitting in my living room right now, taking a look at this home I've created with Jon-Michael and I'm shaken by the knowledge that I've worked so hard to get to this point and, ironically, I'm working so hard to keep it, we seldom get the time to enjoy it together.
And sullenly, this reminds me of my parents. Them, with their beautiful home on this majestic reservoir in the country, with their three children raised and happy, and yet, they still work so hard to call it home. They have so much to be proud of and such great accomplishments to show for their lives, yet seldom they get to sit in that house and soak up the serene, natural silence of the forest without some interruption.
If it's any indication of what my future may be, I'd rather my parents be recluses in their home in the woods, have no obligations to tend, and no voids to fill in the lives of others unless and until they wanted, than to think they've worked this hard for this long to still not be able to enjoy the fruits of their labors without feeling obligated or pressured into helping people the way I do.
I, as well as they, deserve far better than to be misused because of our kindness.
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