Being Nice Paid The Price

"Remember, nice guys finish last". the last wisdom my uncle bestowed me before his passing. 

 Those words occasionally linger in my head every now and then, reminding me like a post-it that was taped onto the hard drive of my brain. I never really understood what my uncle was trying to say back then. One of the first traits everyone i know associates me with is 'nice'. Nice looking, nice hair, nice handwriting, nice. The word NICE seems to be the first thing anyone realises about my personality, like it was written on my forehead. Being nice wasn't something i developed rather it was a trait i was born with. From the days of a prepubescent boy, i was categorized as nice. Nice, nice and nice. 

 "I'd always have your back no matter what" i said to my best friends. 

 Being nice became a habit, a habit of being courteous, being gentlemen-like, to being, well, nice. I was comfortable with the term nice. The habit of being nice branched out into being soft-spoken, altruistic, trusting and above all, hopeful throughout the years. The word wasn't just a mere compliment but it became my identifier. Mr. Nice Guy. 

 From the days i began to understand life, fragment by fragment, piece by piece, i was led to believed that being nice gets you everywhere. Being nice towards myself, being nice towards others, being nice to other living creatures, even being nice to objects. The satisfaction that gleamed on my face when i accomplish to uphold the term each day started to dampen as i realised it came with a price. 

"I'll see what i can do to help" i replied in an assuring tone. 

 The price that came with being nice wasn't in the form of material. The price was bigger, more terrifying than i imagined it to be. When the bill arrived one fine morning, I was speechless and never in my life was i ever so lost for words. The glee on my face disappeared. The sparkle in my eyes dampen. The fire in my heart started to extinguish. It was a moment of realisation that those 4 words that occasionally haunts my recollections was true after all. Was i indenial all these years? Too selfless? Too absorbed in basking in the thank you's after every occasion that required me to be, nice? 

 I can't help but agree. 

 I weep. I wailed. I realise i cant pay the bill. I was stuck. For a moment there, i was absolutely brain dead. I had no idea what to do next. I moved around the room trying to make sense that what my uncle said was right. All along he was and i was too oblivious to believe it. I turned around and took a good look in the mirror. I understood, now, what he meant. At last, I knew what to do. I needed to change my look. 

 "Enough, you've never appreciated me, you only needed me because i was nice to you, the only one who was!" i screamed back. 

 The first day i erased nice off my sleeve was the day i felt superior. I know it's wrong to feel like a bitch, but it felt good to not be someone's bitch. I took off the necklace i was so proud of. I concealed the tattoo that stamped nice across my forehead. I drowned myself into morbidity and selfishness, not a stench of nice was on me. I was different, contrast to who i was. An abstract figure that i never thought would be concrete. 

I started seeing the world differently, although the world remained unchanged. For the first time, i felt more powerful, more angst, harder than i was before. It felt oddly, good. Mr. Nice Guy was gone. No more. Buried six feet deep down with his memories. I felt more enraged, more hungry to be the top dog.

 "..I feel so alone.." 

 The new found fame soon became a fallout. I lost friends, i lost trust, i lost almost everything. I sacrifice the years i invested in being nice into being a monster. Far worst, i lost myself. I never actually explained what the bill stated when it arrived that made me spiral out. It was grotesque. The bill was actually my heartbreak. Being nice caused my heart to break. Made the fire extinguish. Made the dream, a nightmare. The heartbreak took its toll for the worst as i began to understand life more vividly. I completed the puzzle, the piece i pick up everyday on life. My heartbreak, my realisation that being nice had its price was devastating. Being nice didn't mean to be soft-spoken or gentlemen-like but it meant to put others before you. Selfless. Altruistic. 

 The price it came with completely turned my beliefs a 180 degrees. Being nice allowed anyone to come in and anyone to leave. Being nice made me vulnerable. Being nice was not being able to let myself be above others. Being nice welcomed temporary figures. Being nice carried baggage, not just my own but everyone else's too. Being nice allowed the chance to deny the truth. Being nice fogs your logic. Being nice leaves you satisfactory but at the same time leaves you wondering. Being nice lets anyone take you for granted. Ultimately, being nice breaks your heart and that's when you know, being nice paid the price.