You Can't Be Too Kind: Indulging Everyth

You Can't Be Too Kind: Indulging Everything Only Leads to More Exploitation

 

When we were children, our parents and teachers always told us, "Be a kind person" and "Learn to forgive others." Back then, we thought that as long as we showed kindness without reservation and forgave mistakes without limits, we would receive the same tenderness in return. But as we grow older, after being taken advantage of and let down time and time again, we gradually realize: true kindness is never unprincipled compromise, and true forgiveness is never boundless concession.

 

Summer, a friend of mine, used to be known as "the nicest person" among our circle. When colleagues asked her to help revise their proposals, she would agree with a smile even if her own work was piling up; her roommate often forgot to pay utility bills, and she quietly covered the costs again and again, fearing it would embarrass the roommate; even when a delivery driver brought the wrong order, she would say "It's okay" and reorder for herself. However, her consideration did not earn her the same respect in return.

 

Colleagues gradually took "revising proposals" as her obligation, casually throwing together first drafts and waiting for her to polish them; the roommate went even further—she not only stopped paying utility bills but also cluttered up the shared space, saying, "You like being tidy, so it's no big deal for you to clean up"; once, she helped a desk mate buy coffee, but the colleague took it without even a "thank you" and instead complained, "Why didn't you add sugar? Did you forget?" Summer said委屈ly, "I was always afraid that refusing would make others unhappy, but in the end, they don't even care about my basic feelings."

 

This is exactly the situation many of us face in life: the more unprincipled you compromise, the more others will push their luck; the more limitless you are in forgiveness, the more others will take your kindness for granted. It's like a tree full of fruit—when a passerby picks one, you smile and say, "It's okay, there are many more"; then someone else will shake the branches to pick all the fruit, and even break your twigs—they know you won't resist, so they dare to exploit you without scruple.

 

I remember a story I read online before: a girl named Clara was in charge of administrative work at her company. Every time the department had a dinner, she would take the initiative to book the restaurant, calculate the bill, and collect money from everyone. At first, people would say "Thank you for your hard work," but later it gradually turned into "You're familiar with this, so you do it." Once she took a sick leave, her colleagues complained in the group, "Why do you have to get sick at this time?" because no one was there to book the restaurant or settle the bill. Clara was completely heartbroken when she saw the messages. From then on, she stopped taking the initiative to take on all the work, and when someone asked for her help, she would say "no" based on her own situation. Slowly, her colleagues began to respect her, and no one took her efforts for granted anymore.

 

In fact, kindness itself is not wrong; the mistake is that we equate "kindness" with "no bottom line." It's like a knife without a sheath—you unguardedly point the blade at yourself and hand the hilt to others, so others will naturally use it to hurt you. Truly wise kindness has edges: it reaches out to those in need, but also shows its bottom line to those who push their luck; it forgives others' unintentional mistakes, but also refuses others' excessive demands.

 

For example, some people will take the initiative to lend money to a friend in trouble, but they will say, "You need to pay this back on time; I have my own plans too"; when a colleague asks for help, they will say, "I have an urgent task on hand—can you wait until I finish it?" Their kindness is not diminished, but because of the "boundaries," others cherish it more—they know this kindness is not free or unlimited, so they are grateful and dare not exploit it casually.

 

We must eventually understand: your kindness is a precious gift, not a cheap bargaining chip; your forgiveness is a noble character, not a weakness to be manipulated. If someone bullies you because of your kindness, or goes too far because of your forgiveness, don't doubt that your kindness is wrong—instead, learn to stop unprincipled concessions.

 

From today on, be a "kind person with thorns": be warmer to sincere people, be more alert to calculating people; help when you can, and refuse when you should. Don't let your kindness become an excuse for others to bully you; don't let your forgiveness turn into a chain that drains you. After all, only those who know how to protect themselves can truly pass on kindness, and only then can they be treated gently by the world.