Kindness

As the old saying goes:

The saddest person is the kindest soul

I gave this some thought, magnificent bastards, and I'm still unsettled by it. Taking it on face value, why are those who are sad kind? Why does there have to be a link between them in this context? Why does my gut recoil, clench after reading it in a way that only cements its truth?

See, I read something else right after it--went a little like this:

They do it because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do.

I cannot say whether this second part is accurate. It doesn't twist my gut like the first part, but there's something to it. For those who are empathetic in the slightest and who've gone through something difficult, wouldn't they want to steer others clear of the same difficulty? It makes sense in my head, but maybe not others'. Perhaps I'm caught somewhere like a twig in a creek, doomed to never make it to the river below, doomed to never grasp the truth behind it all.

I've met many people in my life from all walks of life. They're all different, have their peculiarities, their uniqueness, their quirks. But they're human at the end of the day, and the kindest of them have had, or are currently going through, turmoil. Many of them struggle with it daily, for weeks. For months.

For years.

They never complain, break, or bow under the pressure, and for that I'm thankful. That's not always the case.

But it's these same people that are the kindest. They go out of their way to make sure I have a better day, or an easier time with a task, or even just check up on me to make sure I'm doing alright. Sometimes it's as simple as asking me, "How are you?" Then not accepting anything other than a real answer.

Some have said I have a hard head, but I'm thankful for these kind souls I have in my life. Without them I'd have a much rougher go at life, a much harder time being where I'm at.

Despite this, I'll be stuck with a niggling thought in the back of my head from here on out. See, it was just a few weeks ago I wrapped up a gig, probably never to see many of the people around me again. It's a peculiar experience saying "I'll see you again sometime," to someone you're almost certainly never to see again. But I still said it, and what they said back was thus:

You're a kind soul.

I know they're genuine. I know they're good folk that have grown much since I met them only a handful of weeks prior. I cannot help myself but wonder what it is that makes me a kind soul.

Am I really that sad?

Many would say so, in fact, in many of my downward spirals I would apathetically agree. I struggle with sadness; this is part of being human. But is it the struggle and the empathy I carry within me that drives me to be kind? Or does it come from somewhere else?

I don't rightly know.

All I can say is that I don't wish sadness on anyone. Not even those my hatred burns brightly for, who I may wish pain upon, but never sadness.

See, there's a word I use instead of sadness in my internal monologue.

Misery.

A simple, yet effective word to describe how my sadness makes me feel on the downward track. But in paradox, my soul is described as kind.

I surely don't understand it now, but someday I hope I can grasp it. Maybe then I'll be a better human, more wizened, wisened by life, and prepared for the next difficulties. Until then, you magnificent bastards, remember to watch out for the kind souls out there. Just as they watch out for others, they need someone to watch out for them.

Styles Yugen, signing off.