Be more kind. Be more kind. Be more kind. At least, it’s on my mind to. I know I’m not the only one whose insides shake for realising: I want so much for others. With that, and knowing that the world breeds too much pain for them to bear and that wanting gets them nowhere, I cry some tears as I think of those others (I know, in vain). I know I’m not the only one who wants to treat my mother better, be a better sister to my sister, and a better person for my dad. I know that sitting in a bed in a room in a house closes me off from doing anything much for anyone. I know I’ll sleep on this, tomorrow will come, and I won’t have grown much kinder when I bare my teeth to let harsh words out and anger in. I know there are differences – huge differences – between acts of kindness and acting kind. I know that all I can really do that is real is to try being kinder to people because they need me to be, and I, too, need them to be kinder to me. We all have our faults, but what’s harder to shake is your conscience.

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