Kindness

“There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echos.” ~ Milan Kundera

When does kindness begin? When does it end? When does kindness become cruelty - to oneself, to someone else?

I am told I am kind - not in the juvenile understanding of the term but as compassion. And it is kindness that is my undoing, my Achilles heel, my source of misery. It is kindness and a utopian expectation of humanity that flagellates me each day.

But am I truly kind? Is this compassion? Or is there even a notion of kindness without reciprocity?

Perhaps you are right:
"good intention alone is not enough; one needs to consider the appropriateness of the kind act/word/intention, like time, situation, receptiveness of the individual, possible consequences.
Goodness of one's intentions doesn't guarantee good results, as they say the way to hell is paved with good intentions. It might seem a cumbersome process to have to consider so many things just to carry out a simple act of kindness, but it's worth it if we can catch how our supposedly good intentions are oft tinged with personal motives or, at best, guilelessness bordering on the delusional. At the very least, we could have saved ourselves heartaches and headaches if we're able to discern our inability or unwillingness to bear the potential consequences, unless of cos not extending our kindness to the person would bring about (serious) negative consequences to him/her."

It is time to stop being kind; it is time to end compassion.

It is time to be cruel to be kind.

I'm sorry...