The Importance Of Being A Good Person

The Importance Of Being A Good Person

An open letter to the good-hearted people.
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Being a good person does not depend on your religion or status in life, your race or skin color, political views or culture. It depends on how good you treat others.

We are all born to do something great. Whether that be to grow up and become a doctor and save the lives of thousands of people, run a marathon, win the Noble Peace Prize, or be the greatest mother or father for your own future children one day. Regardless, we are all born with a purpose. But in between birth and death lies a path that life paves for us; a path that we must fill with something that gives our lives meaning.

However, there are times where the obstacles of life seem to get the best of us and we often let it go to heart. And by obstacles, I mean people who often take advantage of mistreating others. But, instead of taking each and every negative thing or action that happens to you as a personal attack on your character, remember one thing: you're a good person.

I know it sounds corny, but it's true. It's so important to remember that you're a good person and you don't deserve to be treated or feel like otherwise. The biggest problem that people often face is that struggle of others taking advantage of you and your good heart. But, don't let this get the best of you. Instead, let it be a lesson for you to realize that not everyone will truly appreciate your kindness and those are the people whom you should eliminate from your life.

No matter how many people try to tell you otherwise, never change who you are for anyone. Keep doing things for other people out of the goodness of your heart, not for the sole purpose to please others. It's so important to stay true to who you are in order to serve as a role model for those who look up to you. Even though you may not realize it, you serve a huge significance in someone else's life where they feel as if they have been influenced by the person you are to the point where he or she only aspires to be as good of a person as you.

I also know there are times where being a good person seems like the worst possible thing; almost as if it's a trait that works completely against you. There are times where people walk all over you, or not include you in their plans, or maybe act like you don't even exist because you're just convenient to them when they need you. Those are the worst kinds of people. But you need to remember something, you matter. You treat people the way you would want to be treated and that is one of the biggest indicators that you are human in the sense that you see the goodness in others as well.

Being a good person is a lot more than what others seem to give you credit for. People don't understand that those like us whom have good hearts and are just always there for other people, have to deal with a lot of negativity because people tend to associate kindness with weakness. But actually, it's the complete opposite. When you're a good person, you are the strongest type of person there is. You are the one who people confide in whenever they need comfort or advice. You are the one who your friends come to whenever they have good or bad news.

At the end of the day, you are the one who are the one people will always be thankful for because their lives wouldn't be the same without you.

Cover Image Credit: WP content

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To The Parent Who Chose Addiction

Thank you for giving me a stronger bond with our family.

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When I was younger I resented you, I hated every ounce of you, and I used to question why God would give me a parent like you. Not now. Now I see the beauty and the blessings behind having an addict for a parent. If you're reading this, it isn't meant to hurt you, but rather to thank you.

Thank you for choosing your addiction over me.

Throughout my life, you have always chosen the addiction over my programs, my swim meets or even a simple movie night. You joke about it now or act as if I never questioned if you would wake up the next morning from your pill and alcohol-induced sleep, but I thank you for this. I thank you because I gained a relationship with God. The amount of time I spent praying for you strengthened our relationship in ways I could never explain.

SEE ALSO: They're Not Junkies, You're Just Uneducated

Thank you for giving me a stronger bond with our family.

The amount of hurt and disappointment our family has gone through has brought us closer together. I have a relationship with Nanny and Pop that would never be as strong as it is today if you had been in the picture from day one. That in itself is a blessing.

Thank you for showing me how to love.

From your absence, I have learned how to love unconditionally. I want you to know that even though you weren't here, I love you most of all. No matter the amount of heartbreak, tears, and pain I've felt, you will always be my greatest love.

Thank you for making me strong.

Thank you for leaving and for showing me how to be independent. From you, I have learned that I do not need anyone else to prove to me that I am worthy of being loved. From you, I have learned that life is always hard, but you shouldn't give into the things that make you feel good for a short while, but should search for the real happiness in life.

Most of all, thank you for showing me how to turn my hurt into motivation.

I have learned that the cycle of addiction is not something that will continue into my life. You have hurt me more than anyone, but through that hurt, I have pushed myself to become the best version of myself.

Thank you for choosing the addiction over me because you've made me stronger, wiser, and loving than I ever could've been before.

Cover Image Credit: http://crashingintolove.tumblr.com/post/62246881826/pieffysessanta-tumblr-com

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Batter Up

Because someone needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat a woman.

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views

I have this memory from when I was younger,

I must have been six, maybe seven? An age

When you can remember, but not quite

Understand. I remember the landline

Ringing sometime in the middle

Of the night in my grandmother's small,

But adequate house. I had been sleeping,

Tucked under a shield of satin covers,

My grandmother next to me, blanketless,

And stiff, on the very edge of the queen mattress

Like she was anticipating some sort of disaster.

It wasn't the phone that pulled me from my sleep,

It was my grandmother's instant jerk, her eyes

Flipping open quicker than a light switch,

The mattress springing back up, adjusting

To the new lightness as she fled the room. My waking

Was soft like a song. Slow and humane.

My eyes adjusting to the dark, my ears absorbing the ringing,

My mind reminding itself that I was at my grandmother's house.


Then, the ringing stopped;

Abrupt, like a disarmed fire alarm.

It was just a drill, I thought.

But, then I heard the mumbling

From behind the door, panicked mumbling.

Rapid, like gunfire. My grandmother's Rs

Rolling down the hallway and under the door crack.

She only spoke Spanish when she was angry.


The call ended, my grandmother returned to the room,

Wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the night.

She buckled me into the backseat of her Toyota and said,

We were going to Auntie Mandy's house because someone

Needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat

A woman.


When we arrived at the house, we found the front door

Wide open, the house lights spilling out onto the porch.

A truck, I had seen once before, was parked a foot away

From the front door, aggressive. The truck had trampled

Over the dandelions and daisies, which lay wounded

In the front yard. A scene that begged for investigation.


My grandmother told me to stay put in my seat.

I watched as she walked to the back of the car, her normally pretty

Face turned straight, looked masculine. I watched as she pulled

Something wooden out of her trunk, then in her feline walk,

Approached the house. She turned to me, and I saw the

Baseball bat, immense in her female hands.


I slouched in my seat, the window above my head.

I never saw her go into the house.


I don't remember how long I sat,

Until the red and blue lights came.

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