We all carry within us a fragment of kindness, however deeply buried or fiercely denied it may be. Many are more comfortable clothing themselves in the illusion of wickedness and denial, as though cruelty were a badge of strength and compassion a mark of weakness. Yet no soul is entirely consumed by darkness, and no man is completely wicked. Somewhere beneath the scars, disappointments, pride, and denial is a quiet ember of kindness. At the same time, not everyone chooses to nurture that kindness, and while some can find a balance, a few people do not know when to stop being kind.

There is a peculiar similarity between a performer on stage, who does not know when to leave the stage, and a person who does not know when to withhold kindness. Both linger beyond the necessary moment and overstretch their good performance, eventually meeting with regret, diminished value, or quiet humiliation. This truth does not spare strangers, nor does it exempt family, for blood alone does not sanctify exploitation. I have watched people become prisoners of their own generosity, reduced to mere conveniences in the eyes of those they sacrificed for (I am talking as one who has been a victim). The moment you cease to place your own well-being alongside that of others, kindness slowly loses its nobility and begins to resemble self-neglect dressed in virtue; at this point, it will be seen as you being clueless about your resources.
When people realise that you have a kind heart, and they discover that pity can loosen your grip on your possessions, your peace, or even your boundaries, many will no longer see your compassion as strength. To them, it becomes an opening to extort and a vulnerability to be exploited. People will ride on it; they will not see it as you being kind to them, they will see you as being vulnerable, and they will prey on it.

You see, I have had my fair share of this, and I am currently living with the regret of not knowing when to say no to deceitful people asking me for what I thought was kindness, not knowing they were just exploiting me. People would always come for help, both financially and for health consultations and medications. Since we are in a developing country with lots of people living below the poverty line, people come saying they do not have sufficient funds to purchase meds, and I try to help them all the time, but then I realise a number of them do this because they believe I do not know what to use money for and were taking me for a fool.
After this happened repeatedly, I've decided not to honour all requests for assistance. But I'm asking: do you think I'm right about this, or do you have a different perspective?