sometimes I think that I’m so tired and in pain I imagine things. Today I imagined that someone reflected right back at me my suspicions that we are in an age of cruelty, there is no place left for kindness or compassion in this hard old world. Mind, I intend to help people for a bit longer, and so did the man I thought told me the same. Did he though? How could things be so terrible? How could it really be that hopeless?
I was vulnerable, yuck. Kindness is a gentle poison, and I almost felt understood. What if that is illusion as well? I don’t trust it, being illusion would be easier.
Or things really are terrible, and the other hands trained towards kindness know it as well. We must endure the worst punishment a kind person can; to watch the suffering of others, longing to help, limited in scope of help available. Perhaps together? Or perhaps it is just me, here staring into the void, by myself.