Maybe some people aren’t meant to have a hidden talent. Maybe we aren’t all meant to know how to wickedly play an instrument, how to paint a masterpiece, how to perfectly curate everything we lay our eyes on. Maybe instead we light up a room when we walk in, we ever-so-carefully listen to every last word that rolls off of someone’s tongue, we ache to take someone else’s pain from them when we see sadness.
Maybe that’s some of our talents. And maybe that’s enough. To be so aware of the world around us that all we want to do is make it better, even if that just means listening and giving someone else every last bit of ourselves that we have to offer. Because we know at the end of the day, even if it’s not reciprocated, even if it’s unrequited love, we are still strong enough to pick ourselves up and carry on. Because that is how much we love ourselves.
We love ourselves enough to know that we aren’t the most talented in the room. We can’t break out a quick party trick in a crowd full of strangers, we can’t whisk someone away by the materialistic things we have. No, what we can offer is love so fierce and understanding so intently that we make people forget what it ever felt like to be alone, to feel lost.
Our patience with people is our talent. Our capability to remain kind, our willingness to remain loving, even when our own hearts have been stomped on a million times. We forever remain consistently open and candid; we wear our hearts on our sleeve, because that, my dear, that in itself is a talent. A love that can be felt by anyone because you are willing to give it so effortlessly. Let’s forget that people say it shouldn’t come so freely. Give love where love is due, where it’s needed. Leave people better than you found them.
If you are lucky enough to be loved by someone with this gift or capable of loving someone to this magnitude, you will never experience the ache of being alone again. Because I am here to tell you, my dear, it’s time to realize that kindness is a talent.