Sometimes I Cry: The Extent of Caring

Throughout most of my life, the word most commonly used to describe me was ‘kind’ or anything of that sort. People have even referred to me as an “angel” before, (which, for the record, I do not agree with). However, the people who know me on a closer level often tell me that they feel bad for me, and this belief has always confused me. Growing up with these thoughts revolving around me, I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that I should always be kind to others, regardless of the way they act towards me. People have told me they wished they had this quality as well, but as I continue to grow up, I realize that the extent in which my faith in others has grown is only causing me harm.
Everybody in this world has a conscience even if they don’t realize it, but it’s their decision whether they listen to it or not. There’s a point in each person’s life where they no longer care if their actions affect others negatively, but even when knowing this, I’ve always tried to bring people back to kindness. My fear of coming off as rude stems from this, for even at the rare times that I confront others, I often find myself being the one apologizing. Even the smallest hint of discomfort or sadness makes me feel guilty, whether I was the one who caused the emotions or not. Eventually, the worry I held for others’ feelings began to control the way I went about my daily life.
My caringness for others reached a point in which I no longer cared for myself. While looking out for others, I refused to let them acknowledge the way I felt because I grew worried that my emotions would affect them. The selflessness that I contained began to tear me down as I continued attempting to build others up. At my worst, I found myself doing everything people asked me for, even when I was uncomfortable or when the situation put me at a disadvantage. Because of this, people believed it was okay for them to treat me however they desired, which only dug me into a deeper hole of sorrow.
I won’t deny the fact that these tendencies still affect me to this day. However, I hope to someday no longer care for the thoughts people have about me, and only agree to things if it’s something I truly want. I hope that I’ll be able to form decisions and take opportunities based on my desires, rather than depending on others’ approval. I will forever worry for other people and do my best to ensure that everybody’s okay, but I’ve learned that I am human just as everybody else is. In the end, how am I supposed to help others if I can’t help myself?