Image of a hand reaching another hand

“To The Kindest Soul I Ever Met”

Image of a hand reaching another hand


To the kindest soul I ever met,

Life can be such an arduous ride. Some people get the hardest brunt of it, though. The best part of it, however, is when you find someone who really cares. And then, life can seem a bit better–only because they’re there.

You are that sliver of comfort for me. The many instances when I’m silently dealing with stuff and you just appear out of thin air, cheerfully bearing the very solution to my predicament–or simply, to tell me that you’re there. Like, how do you do that? Even those moments when I’m hiding from everyone else and then, you startle me with that insistent doorbell-banging that always begs to be acknowledged. How do you even produce patience for that?

You’re such a bright ray of sunshine. Sometimes, I thank the gods for your presence; a lot of times, I get irritated with your persistence. Like, you seem to ignore all pretense of propriety and just barge into everything, right?

I’m not used to sincerity. I’m not familiar with all-out kindness. I’m not someone who loves highlighted attention and extreme renditions of benevolence. I actually hate being noticed and being given any kind of recognition. When you’re used to a horrendous existence, you become a shrivelled nihilist who doubts each tiny display of goodness. You are the exact anti-thesis of that life I know.

This is not to proclaim that my life has been too filled up with evil that I’ve never had any dip into the goodwill of some. There are lots who’ve given me a bit of their time and affection–but never really up to that extent where they stuck to their guns and forced it down my throat.

My point is, no one has ever given me consistent, unconditional devotion. You outlasted them all. You cajole me to believe you; then you demand me to keep knowing that you’re true. You’re stubbornly real.

You realize the many reasons not to like me. You perceive the myriad of unloveable aspects that make up my personality. You discern my perverse need to remain aloof–inveigling not to drown in the spotlight. Yet, you staunchly show me that everything isn’t lost–that good people are still a fact of this life.

And you know something? Each time you show me compassion–each second you bid me to accept your assistance, you slowly melt my calcified soul. I’ve become jaded and uncomfortable with declarations of any kind. But, you stalwartly prove that I can count on you, any time.

As it happens, there’s this thrumming need to say, “Thank you”. I want to let you know how grateful I am for the multitude of offers you bestow unto me. I may still feel uneasy with asking for anything–or even telling you about my travails; yet, allow me this small recognition of who you are.

Thank you for your voluntary love. It may still seem impossible to me that someone, like you, exists in this realm–and really, I’m still that ornery crone who’s recalcitrant to change. Though, I thank the heavens for the gift of you. May God continue to bless you and keep you safe. Because, your continued, unmitigated aid of those in need and your obdurate, tenacious solicitude for the lonely are unequivocally admirable traits. You’re a rare display of God’s true face.

A person, like you, who can stay humble, hardworking, and altruistic is truly a gift to this ancient world of shameless greed and reprehensible apathy.

The frazzled witch,

©Diwa

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