I Still Choose Kindness

I was bullied as a kid.

Relentlessly.

For my voice. For my face. For the way I sat.
For the things I loved, for the things I feared,
and for just existing in the wrong shape at the wrong time
in front of the wrong people
who thought pain was entertainment.

They called it teasing.
I called it surviving.

I’ve been hit. Mocked. Ignored.
Used.
Gaslit until I didn’t trust my own joy.

I’ve heard “you’re too much”
and
“you’re not enough”
in the same breath.

I’ve watched the people who hurt me
get laughs.
Get praised.
Get promoted.
Get away with it.

And still—

I choose kindness.

Not because I owe the world anything.
Not because I’m trying to be the bigger person.
Not because I’m trying to heal anyone else.

I choose kindness
because I know how sharp cruelty can be.
Because I know how long it echoes.
Because I know what it feels like
to lie awake wondering if something is wrong with you
just because you couldn’t make them like you.

I choose kindness
because I’ve felt the exact moment
when a stranger’s softness pulled me off the edge
without even knowing it.

Because I’ve cried in public bathrooms
and car rides
and empty classrooms
and still showed up the next day with a smile
that wasn’t for me
but for the other weird kid
who didn’t want to eat lunch alone.

I choose kindness
because I am no longer small.
Because I am no longer powerless.
Because I know what I’m capable of…
and I refuse to become what almost broke me.

You don’t have to understand me.
You don’t have to like me.
But you will not steal my softness.

You will not make me hard.

This world doesn’t need another bitter man
pretending his trauma is character.

What it needs is a fire
that burns,
but doesn’t destroy. 

And baby,
that’s me.

🔥

🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

Tip me because I turned pain into poetry instead of revenge.

👇

🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

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