There are people who will take pieces of you. They’ll take them when you’re not looking— sometimes even when you are. They’ll stare you in the face and dare you to say something. And what can you do?
Even if you get the pieces back, they’re never the same. Like how we were told as children not to touch a butterfly’s wings because their dust would rub off and they wouldn’t be able to fly.
They take your dust.
They take it til you can’t fly anymore…
Sometimes I fight back, returning their stares; giving them the worst parts of myself so they don’t take the good parts, the vulnerable parts. But if all people ever see are the worst parts, what does that make me in their eyes?
The good parts are only good if we share them. Irony? We stay kind by letting them take our kindness. There is nothing weak about being kind. And there is nothing wrong with defending your right to be kind or to be treated kindly in return.
So dare to take what you think you can from me. Take my kindness. But know that you will not take my good nature and poison it. You will not take my strength, no matter how you test it.