Overpaid in kindness

For years she kept a second job no one ever posted. No contract, no salary, no days off. She called it being nice. One quiet night the lights come up and her head finally clears. She runs a gentle audit of her own life and finds every yes she ever handed out standing in line, asking for a receipt. Every “no trouble at all” had quietly turned into a job title. She folded her wants down small enough to fit in someone else’s pocket and called it love, on the good days. Others got the warm side of the evening. She got the chair by the door. Every promise had her name on it, and nobody ever asked what hers were for. Then comes the bridge, where the anger is not loud at all. Quiet is the loudest thing she owns. She is not mad at them, really. She is mad at the woman who kept whispering “It’s fine. Go ahead. I’m fine.” Still, a small light stays on. Maybe a stranger will walk through the door, soaked and certain, and tear the script in half. And if the door stays shut, she will walk out on her own, because it may be too late for the plot, but never too late for the small things. The audit ends the way it began, calm and dry. Total owed: one me. Payment pending. If this story felt like your own quiet ledger, stay a while. Subscribe and follow Velourglow for more late night stories, soft confessions and warm, dusty beats. Leave a comment and tell me what you are finally taking back for yourself. Lyrics Quick audit. Lights up. Head clear. Turns out I’ve been working a second job for years. Unpaid. Full time. I called it being nice. Every yes I handed out is standing in a line Asking for a receipt I said “no trouble at all” so many times It turned into my job title I folded all my wants down small Small enough for someone else’s pocket Called it generosity Called it love, on the good days Overpaid in kindness Underpaid in me Gave away the good hours Kept the leftovers for free Too late to rewrite the script Too late, or so it seems Clear head and a bitter taste Funny what sober eyes can see They got the warm side of the evening I got the chair by the door Every promise had my name on it Nobody asked what mine were for Now the road ahead is empty Nobody waiting at the end And the bitter taste of choosing wrong Is the one thing I can’t pretend I’m not shouting. Quiet is the loudest thing I own. I’m not mad at them. Really. I’m mad at the woman who kept saying “It’s fine. Go ahead. I’m fine.” Unless a stranger walks through that door tonight Soaked and certain, eyes only on me Tears the whole script clean in half And says scene two is free Overpaid in kindness Underpaid in me If the door stays shut tonight I’ll walk out on my own, easily Maybe it’s too late for the plot Not too late for the small things No more handing out my hours To a life that isn’t mine to bring Audit complete. Total owed: one me. Payment pending. #Velourglow #OverpaidInKindness #Lofi #LofiHipHop #Chillhop #Slushwave #ChillMusic #RelaxingMusic #StudyMusic #LofiBeats #SpokenWord #BoomBap #LateNightVibes #SelfLove #Healing #AIMusic #NewMusic #Playlist