A dusky evening began with a brass key locking a door and a man turning his head away from a house he once called home. He entered his white carriage to drive away from his past life and current problems. The scent of luxury leather had softened and so had his demeanor. His heart was tender and torn. His lies and betrayal had become a battle where he could not prevail, for it was his own deceit that broke his castle, and now he is without queen and prince. This is no longer a fairytale.

I had met this not-so-gentleman a few times before, each time a faint memory leaving more questions to be asked for the next time we’d share the same space. Months had passed and his presence no longer was a surprise and he became a regular sight to see. Curiosity is often a force that drives us to roads we wish we never saw.

The questions I once had of him
were blown into the dust
when he spoke of his life,
with such arrogance and pride,
he gloated with his bloated ego
and his heart pushed to the side.

The more he spoke, the more I knew that I no longer wanted to know about him and became less curious of his soul underneath his skin. His life was grand yet he was not gallant, he had money but was not rich in life, and he howled of worlds and lives he lived only for a moment or in a daydream. His head was in the clouds, misted by the haze of having it all but having no one who truly knew his core. I questioned, “Do you even know yourself?”

I could not pity you because there was intent and choice behind your words when you boasted of your coins and collection of material things in your life. I saw the void in your eyes and I wondered if your vices would ever fulfill the hole you dug yourself.

There was not much of you that I knew
nor did I desire to change that for
my disappointment and displeasure of you grew
but I looked past your flaws
for even sheep need love too.

It’s easy to label someone as X, Y, and Z and be done with them, as if I truly know a person from the few and scattered interactions I have with them and even then, it begs the question of if I even have the right to pass my judgement of them as the truth? Truth and opinion are two different things and it’s easy for me to mix the two and call it my perspective.

But even then, I’ve started to grow guilty of my harsh opinions of others, an unfamiliar behavior coming from me but a genuine sign that I am maturing. I aspire to be compassionate, and to have compassion for others, there must be hope and faith in someone–especially when we feel that they don’t deserve it–because that is when they need it the most. Compassion is a gift and one that we can give to others without immense preparation or having to spend copious amounts of money.

This holiday season, I will practice compassion and work on changing my negative opinions of others–some I’ve held onto for far too long and some I’ve recently developed–to be less negative but not naively and blindly optimistic.

Happy Holidays, everyone!!! Thank you for reading.