I used to believe in something simple, something good — that kindness begets kindness. That if you held the door open, maybe someone would hold it for you. If you lent a hand, maybe someone would offer theirs when you needed it most. For a while, that seemed true. I went out of my way to help strangers — held doors, helped the disabled navigate crowded aisles, even pitched in at the checkout for a struggling single mom. It wasn’t about recognition. It was about doing what’s right.
But lately, something’s changed. Something in me, yes — but more disturbingly, something in us.
That quiet, invisible social thread — the one that used to bind us together through decency and shared humanity — is unraveling fast. Being kind no longer feels noble. It feels… naïve. Like tossing coins into a wishing well that’s been dry for years.
I see it in the blank stares, the entitled attitudes, the coldness that hangs in the air like smoke after a fire. There’s no “thank you,” no return smile, no small nod of gratitude. Instead, there’s expectation. Entitlement. Exploitation.
You help someone now, and they look at you like you owe them.
“Paying it forward”? That idea has all but died. Kindness has become a currency with no value — a gesture for people too busy staring at their phones to even notice.
And it’s not just the people. It’s the culture. The country. Canada used to feel like home — like a place where decency was still worth something. Now, it’s starting to feel like a cold, indifferent machine, grinding down those who still give a damn.
It’s not just sad. It’s terrifying.
Because once kindness dies — once we stop caring about each other, once we stop noticing — what’s left? A country of strangers? A nation of takers?
Or something even darker?
We’re not just losing our manners. We’re losing our soul.
And I wonder… when was the last time someone helped you? Not for show. Not for gain. Just because it was the right thing to do.
Can you even remember?
