urgh..this headache! Feels like it'll implode anyday.
SHHHRR—CLACK.
The Urban Rail's door slid closed and a woman in her late fifties stepped into the carriage, stopping near where Yohan sat by the door. A long blue dress hung loosely over her, swaying gently as she walked. One hand carried a satchel, while the other rested casually in a pocket. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her, yet her quiet composure drew his eye for a fleeting moment.
That was his mistake. Their eyes met, briefly, unintentionally. She looked at him with the faint, hopeful expression that perhaps the young man occupying the nearest seat might offer his seat since every other one had been taken. Almost instinctively, Yohan looked away with a heavy beat.
He leaned against the window panel, resting the back of his head against the cool glass, gazing out through half-lidded eyes. His attention drifted somewhere distant, fixed on the city sliding past beyond the window. He wore a black hoodie over a white collared shirt, the shirt peeking out beneath the hem, paired with gray trousers and worn sneakers. A backpack rested on his lap, one hand resting atop it while the other idly fidgeted with his phone.
Pale sunlight filtered through the broad windows at a low angle, casting long bands of gold across the polished floor and the cream-coloured seats. Outside, bare branches and the last fading hues of autumn drifted past beneath a cold, washed-out sky. Metal poles and hanging hand straps stood in neat rows down the carriage, swaying almost imperceptibly with the rail's motion. The air inside was warm and subdued, insulated from the chill pressing against the glass.
Winter had not yet arrived, though autumn was already retreating.
The carriage was nearly empty, except the seats, filled only with the soft hum of the rails, the periodic murmur of the automated announcement echoing through the cabin at intervals, and the quiet sense of a day that had only just begun.
Umph...It's getting worse every day.
His head ached as a whole — not sharply, not in any way he could point to precisely, but as though something beneath the surface was pressing outward at random points near his forehead, leaving behind a dull, incorporeal weight that had no clear origin and refused to lift.
Several minutes passed.
Without much thought, Yohan stood up from his seat, letting the woman in blue take the seat without making the gesture obvious — moving as though he had simply decided to stand on his own, with no particular reason. He shifted to lean against the wall beside the door, the same hollow expression settling back onto his face, gaze drifting through the glass panel set into the door.
What the...why did I give up my seat?
He exhaled through his nose.
Whatever...My junction is about to come anyway. That's why probably.
Hm...well, yeah. For me, kindness isn't about whom to show but when to show.
Kindness isn't always about giving or doing something exaggerated at the expanse of your own or someone's sacrifice. Even small gestures like—a patient smile, a respectful reply, a sincere compliment, the refusal to indulge cruelty, sharing, caring, the simple act of not passing judgement on someone you know nothing about, or even just declining to support something you know is wrong—is kindness.
We don't need to be cruel to ourselves in order to be kind to others.
Being kind to others at the cost of hurting your own wellbeing, your own dignity, your own peace is not kindess. It's sacrifice or may be more than that but the thing is...
...it's not easy to discern whom to be kind but it sure is possible when to be kind.
People sacrifice themselves in the name of being kind, and then turn around and condemn the entire concept, as though kindness itself had betrayed them. It hadn't. They had simply confused it with something else.
Maybe the problem had never been kindness.
Maybe it was forgetting to reserve some of it for yourself.
SHRRRK—THUNK.
Yohan stepped off the carriage onto the platform. The station sat quiet, its polished floor catching the cold white glow of the overhead lights. The train lingered a moment behind him, a faint mechanical hum trailing its closing doors, as he adjusted the strap of his backpack over one shoulder.
Following the dark line running through the center of the platform, he walked past rows of steel carriages toward the escalators at the far end—
I didn't give up my seat out of some idealised notion of kindness, even though she needed it. My stop was only a couple of minutes away, so I let her have it. I chose not to suffer for someone else. But I also chose not to be indifferent or quietly selfish about it either.
Perhaps the essence of kindness is knowing when to extend it...
...and knowing when to keep it for yourself.
He frowned slightly.
Wait- essence? Ugh...What did I just say?
—and stepped onto the descending escalator.
There's nothing wrong with telling your friends no to some pointless gathering because you chose to be kind to your family this time.
There's nothing wrong with telling your family no to a marriage with someone you don't know, because you chose to be kind to yourself this time.
There's nothing wrong with telling the teacher that your friends didn't finish their homework, because you chose to be kind to your friends — kind enough to want them to take their future seriously,
There's nothing wrong with secretly eating your sibling's ice cream or chocolate, because you chose to be kind to them this time, saving them from themselves.
There's nothing wrong with handing in a blank test sheet, because you chose to be kind to your teacher this time so that they won't have to stress about marking.
"Oh—sorry." Yohan inadvertently trod on the back of someone's shoe while stepping off of the escalator. He winced, apologized reflexively, then immediately walked off a little too fast goofily.
Ahem...what in the winter am I blabbering in my head. I'll make sure to buy a headphone soon enough. Only music can help me at this point.
Whatever, where I was? Ah...right—
As far as I understand it, kindness isn't about being cruel to yourself or anyone else to do something good. If you do so, you forfeit any right to complain afterward about how being kind only ever brought you unfairness.
We often mistake blind trust in others as kindness, and when that trust is betrayed, we tell ourselves we were just being kind. No, that wasn't.
We often unknowingly expect certain things or the same warmth and consideration in exchange from others, but when and when it never comes, we again criticize the ideology of being kind. No, this isn't kindness either.
All of these are anything but kindness. Give it a more honest name — a trade, a gambit, an exchange dressed up in softer language.
So...should we expect nothing at all in return for genuine kindness?
Well...for me, Seeking some benefit from doing good isn't inherently wrong, provided that benefit doesn't come at another person's expense.
Motivation and morality aren't always enemies.
The intention behind an act doesn't always determine its value. What it produces in the world matters too.
Religious people perform acts of charity hoping for heaven. Politicians donate publicly to earn the affection of voters. Corporations build schools, hospitals and shelters because generosity makes excellent advertising. Wealthy entrepreneurs establish foundations partly out of compassion and partly because goodwill compounds into reputation.
So is it still kindness, when it was done for a reason?
Yohan emerged from the station's pedestrian stairwell and descended the last few steps to street level. The moment he stepped outside, the city's morning air greeted him—cool, dry, and carrying the faint smell of exhaust, damp concrete, and food from roadside stalls preparing for the day.
Rows of trees lined the sidewalks, their shadows stretching across the pavement beneath the low winter sun. Leaves rustled softly overhead whenever a breeze slipped between the buildings.
The streets were reasonably clean, but not spotless. Crumpled receipts clung to curbs, dust gathered along the edges of the road, and the occasional plastic wrapper rolled across the pavement before getting caught against a drain.
A blue sign board outside the station written: Sector-7, Oklo.
Cars moved steadily through the streets, stopping and starting at traffic lights. Motorcycles threaded between lanes. Buses rumbled past with tired engines, and distant horns rose and faded into the background noise. Pedestrians filled the sidewalks—office workers carrying briefcases, students with backpacks, delivery riders weaving through intersections.
Yohan adjusted the strap of his backpack and kept walking.
Ideally...no.
He lowered his gaze.
I know exactly how rotten this world has become. A person who tries to be kind for no reason at all gets labelled one of two things: a monster with an ulterior motive, or a fool waiting to be exploited.
The concept of unconditional kindness or ideal humanity has either disappeared entirely or never existed in any practical sense to begin with. People are too tired, too suspicious, too bruised by their own experiences to take it at face value.
If I had to choose between helping a complete stranger and a close friend in the same moment, I would most probably choose my friend. Why? Who knows...we won't accept the reason anyway especially when you claim to be kind.
Kindness itself isn't immune to preference.
Could someone remain kind after being treated with contempt?
Perhaps.
Though every person had exceptions. Someone you love, maybe — someone whose cruelty you can hold without breaking, at least for a time.
The station disappeared behind him as he followed the broad sidewalk beneath rows of trees. Sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, scattering patches of light across the pavement. Utility wires stretched between buildings, and signs hung above storefronts that were only beginning to open for the day.
Somewhere nearby, a construction crew was already at work, adding the metallic clanging of tools to the city's rhythm.
Yet there was a vague unfamiliarity of the familiar world around him.
Towering apartment blocks stood beside office buildings clad in glass and steel. Small cafés occupied ground floors. Convenience stores glowed beneath colorful signs. Traffic flowed endlessly through the streets like a river that never stopped moving. It was a calm chaos.
He took a slow breath gazing at the unmoving sky idly.
Whenever I think about kindness, the first face that comes to mind is my father's. It seems he's trying to change but...I do hope not to be like him.
Then he took out his phone checking the time and immediately quickened his pace.
It's sort of funny to think about.
We complain about the world being exploitative, deceitful, indifferent — and somewhere else, someone else is making the exact same complaint about the exact same world, forgetting that the world isn't some separate existence watching us from above.
It is us.
We are what it's made of. We decide it's cruel, so we behave cruelly to protect ourselves from it, and then someone else makes the same decision for the same reason, and the whole thing feeds itself indefinitely. A cycle that perpetuates itself precisely because everyone inside it is convinced they're only responding to it.
Ahead, beyond a row of trees and modern academic buildings, the university campus came into view. Students drifted through the entrance in small groups, carrying books and coffee cups. Some hurried toward lectures while others lingered near walkways and benches. The noise of the city seemed to soften at the edge of the campus, replaced by the distant chatter of students and the rustling of leaves in the cool morning air.
It's not like I tryna break this cycle. It's just...I simply refuse to be part of it.
But why be kind when it's easier to be an asshole?
Um...that's why we got freewill I guess. Isn't it?
Then what about me? I wanna be kind just because of my own free will...? Hm...I've yet to find the answer about that.
I'm simply not sure— just stupidly smart. And pessimistically narcissistic.
Without breaking stride, Yohan passed through the gates.
What's more important is... Uh, I dunno why it's like this but... lately I feel—Lost. Lost in a distant land while craving to return somewhere I belong, however... where? This is absurd, truly absurd.
"Yo, Yohan! Walk faster dude, lecture's about to start." A guy who looked like he'd stepped out of the cover of some dystopian novel waved him over, his face oddly indistinct at the edges of Yohan's focus, standing among a small cluster of students poised to move.
"Yeah, y'all go ahead, I'll catch up." Yohan called back cordially from the distance as an imperceptible smile crossing his face with softened eyes—
Life is almost perfect...but for some reason a strange feeling is deepening within me— an ecstasy.
An empty ecstasy.
I've even made some friends here, pretty good ones actually. Yet I can't help but feel more lonelsome than ever.
—And disappeared into the flow of students beginning another ordinary day.