Confession of my superficial kindness
My kindness is superficial. My kindness is a result of careful analysis. I don’t want to be friends with a person like me. I am afraid of myself, because I know I am calculating. I am not saying that I am dishonest. I am saying there is a lack of intrinsic goodness. The only reason that I am not yet an utterly unpleasant person is that I still have the mental faculties to do what I believe, or what I believe people believe, is acceptable. Telling myself what not to do consumes more energy from me than actually doing. I am afraid that one day I will no longer have the mental capacity, or the energy, required to constrain myself. What will I become?