Untitled but worth it

When I first started watching A Bloody Lucky Day, I felt something about the taxi driver from the very beginning that we see a lot.

He was kind, or believed that it's good to be kind! as sometimes it felt artificial or performed because of this belief, but sometimes it came from someone who still believes there is goodness in the world too. He was polite, helpful, gentle, and optimistic. He believed that if he kept doing good things, if he kept treating people well, life would eventually give something back to him.

He was waiting for his lucky day.

And maybe that was the most painful thing about him and about people like him

Because he was not asking for much. He did not want power or greatness. He only wanted to pay his debts, protect his family, and live a simple life. His hope was built on something so ordinary and yet so difficult: the belief that kindness has meaning.

But the world did not give him what he expected.

And that is where his tragedy began.

And i believe it wasn't just because he was kind but because his kindness was not always just kindness. Sometimes, it became something closer to foolishness. He gave people too many chances. He apologized when he should have defended himself. He allowed people to take from him because he wanted peace more than conflict.

And this is where the serial killer saw something in him.

But he did not see kindness.

He saw weakness.

To him, people like the taxi driver were people who could not take their own rights. People who accepted being hurt instead of fighting back. People who were too afraid to become dangerous.

The serial killer believed that the world belonged to those who were stronger, bolder, and willing to cross every line to get what they wanted.

But the taxi driver believed something completely different.

He believed that being hurt does not give you the right to hurt others.

He believed that even if someone deceives you, uses you, or takes something from you, the answer is not to become cruel yourself and that life has its way to defend you.

And that was the thing the serial killer could not understand.

Because the serial killer was not only interested in killing people. He was interested in proving a theory. He wanted to remove the “mask” of weak people and show that, under enough pressure, everyone would reveal a darker side.

He wanted to prove that kindness was only a temporary mask hiding selfishness and violence.

And the taxi driver became the perfect person to test that idea.

Because the taxi driver was not a person without anger.

He was hurt.

He was afraid.

He had lost things because of his kindness.

Every time the serial killer pushed him, he was forced to remember the moments when being kind had cost him something.

But slowly, the taxi driver learned something painful:

Kindness alone is not enough.

A good heart without strength can become something people exploit.

Sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself. Sometimes you have to stop allowing people to walk over you.

But the tragedy is that the world is not always fair.

If everyone followed the rules, maybe you could always fight with honor. Maybe you could always stay gentle, patient, and untouched.

But against people who have already abandoned those rules, staying completely pure becomes almost impossible.

The question is not only whether you will win. fighting back can save you, but it can also change you.

The taxi driver’s journey was never about staying the same person forever or that good over evil thing,It was about learning how to become stronger without completely losing the person he was trying to protect.

He was not a perfect person.

He had fear.

He had anger.

He had moments where he almost crossed the line.

But the difference between him and the serial killer was not that one of them suffered and the other did not.

Both of them suffered.

The difference was what they chose to do with their suffering.

The serial killer turned his pain into a reason to destroy others especially " weak people".

The taxi driver had to learn how to turn his pain into the courage to protect himself and who he loves.

So

Maybe kindness was never supposed to mean letting people destroy you.

Maybe forgiveness was never supposed to mean forgetting your own worth.

Maybe understanding someone does not mean accepting everything they do to you.

But maybe becoming someone who can't feel anymore is also a kind of loss.

I still do not know what the perfect answer is.

I do not know if a truly kind person can exist in this world without being hurt.

I do not know if boundaries are always enough, or if people will always try to take advantage of those who give them comfort.

But maybe the goal was never to become untouchable.

Maybe the goal is to protect the good inside you while accepting that protecting it may sometimes require you to fight.

And maybe the real question is not:

“Can we stay completely kind in a cruel world?”

it is:“How much of yourself will you lose while trying?”

as if it reaches yours before I do

your soul opens, arms wide

and mine feels nothing but light

the light of you

the weight of your warmth.

Then i see your eyes

holding that gaze ,making me wonder

how will I ever close mine?

How will I ever say goodbye

to the gentle reflections your eyes hold?

And the scene fades

you vanish , yet I still feel you around,

I listen to this tone, and my heart is certain

that the same tone

تزداد الرفات والنفايات،تعج الأمراض وتتوارى الحياة.أشيح بنظري أسرع في كل مرة أنظر إليه كأنني أنكر ما تحول إليه،وأشعر بك، لا تزال موجودا في حيز ما،ربما تكدست حولك أحزاني فلم تعد بمقدرتك الظهور مجددا،لكنك هنا،وأنا أيضا.

أخشى ما تحولت إليه لكنني أعلم أنك لن تخشاني يوما، هل تظنني قادرة على الرؤية خارج مكاني؟ او هل اهرب منه؟

how hard it was not to find you in it

When it touched my face

it came back hollow,

dry as splintered wood,

scraping against the skin

of my longing heart

And still,

that was where I searched for you

In the brief, breaking seconds

between leaving the world

and realizing

you were no longer here,

I felt the light swallow me,

and even within it,