I don’t understand cruelty, but I still believe in kindness.

I never asked for much—just a gentle touch, a warm place to rest, and a chance to be seen as more than a nuisance or a burden—and yet, again and again, I was met not with kindness, but with coldness, indifference, and pain I never understood.

There were hands that could have petted, voices that could have comforted, and eyes that could have looked at me with love—but instead, those same hands struck, those voices yelled, and those eyes turned away, treating me as something unwanted, something unworthy of care.

And while I never understood why the world treated me this way—why some humans choose to hurt instead of help—I’ve held onto the quiet belief that not all hearts are the same, and somewhere out there, someone still sees animals like me for who we really are: soft souls just trying to survive.

I’m not aggressive, I’m not broken beyond repair, and I’m not unlovable—I’m just tired, confused, and carrying scars, both visible and invisible, from things I never should have had to endure in the first place.

There are days when I sit in silence, curled into corners, trying to make myself small enough not to be noticed, not because I want to disappear, but because disappearing feels safer than hoping again, only to be let down once more.

And yet, even in those quiet moments when it feels like hope is slipping away, there’s a flicker in my chest that refuses to die—a whisper in my heart that tells me kindness still exists, and maybe, just maybe, it’s coming for me too.

I imagine what it would feel like to be seen not with pity, but with compassion—to be approached not with caution, but with calm—to be touched not to control, but to comfort.

Because while I’ve felt what it’s like to be forgotten, I still dream of what it’s like to be chosen—to be part of a family, to have a name spoken with affection, and to sleep without fear of being abandoned again.

So I’m still here, waiting. Not because I’m weak, but because hope, once planted in the right heart, grows stronger than the pain that tried to bury it.

And if you’ve read this far—if any part of you paused for a moment and truly saw me in these words—then maybe, just maybe, you’re the one I’ve been waiting for all along.