It's Hard to Give Compassion

How do I stop when I'm hurting and just turn to one who has hurt me and still treat that person with respect, dignity, and love? At a time when you don't feel any of those things?

Sometimes I feel like generosity favors those who are contemptible. Because, really, they are the ones benefiting from mercy and grace. They don't reciprocate, just take, take, take. What is the point?

I think these things like this, but in the heat of the moment, I know that I will err on the side of forgiveness. Especially if someone is in need, not matter what my past history may have been with that person.

Yet after I'm out of the moment, I regret treating someone who treats people wrong with respect. It never comes to good, or so I think. I dwell on all the person's negative aspects and can't see their worth.

It's difficult to remember that I may be seen as despicable to someone else and that person withheld hate and instead gave me what I did not deserve. But every now and then the realization hits me, and I can't but help but to pass that gift on to others, though they may not know how to receive it.

Motivating Yourself When You're Behind

I feel like I can't ever catch up. There's a million things in front of me. It's not like I can just say, "Well, I'll just let them go." They are important things; that's why they are in front of me. I also have a billion things behind me that I've had to let go.

My days go by in a blur, and I have to cram, cram, cram it all in. I'm starting to learn to say, 'No' however. I guess that's a good thing? Doesn't feel so good.

Right now, I'm running in place. Might as well be running backwards. I have somewhere I need to get to, but for the life of me, I can't get there. I'm making no progress. I'm too weighed down to move.

The End of the Search

Write for at least 400 words about an agreement, a shop, a full moon, and a note.*

A tubby man waits in the shadows. His head is cocked to one side, his body in a stiff pose in contrast to his soft nature. He twists a band with a yellow stone around his third finger. The sound of sharp footsteps echo. The man takes a step out of the darkness and is revealed in the glow of the full moon which cast dark lines underneath the remaining hairs slicked to his shiny pate. The footsteps draw closer until their owner stands in front of the man. His eyes widen and his brows draw down. Before him, a slight black girl in dark green cloak looks up at him.

"This is no place for kids."