A graze, a gash, our collocation. If our proximity could be seen for what it was, and not just for what it seemed, would it make a difference? For years, I have been learning how to be kind, not out of love, but out of disappointment and perhaps a flickering, directionless spite. Yet, even with this much fire, I couldn’t find it in me to either extend or raise my hand.
I just close my eyes.
At one point, I learned that kindness is hardly something that can be proffered with just strong intent. There will be a price to pay; sometimes I will, sometimes others will, and sometimes the very person on the receiving end will have to bear the full price.
