Why does the world feel so unjust? The good aren’t as good as they seem. Ulterior motives hide behind most actions, including my own. But why are we like this? What is it that we truly seek?
Maybe it’s just survival instincts—attract a mate, raise your status, assert dominance. But I think it runs deeper. People hide behind masks. They say they want the best for others, but beneath it, they harbor resentment, hating those who surpass them. Bitterness lingers in every heart. I understand this because I’m no different. I, too, am human.
For a long time, I filled the emptiness in my soul with the misery of others. I thought that would make me feel something. But I realized something vital: misery doesn’t fill the void—it only digs it deeper.
The first moment of true happiness I remember wasn’t from my own gain, but from giving. I met someone—a girl broken by life, lost in her pain. She shared her darkest moments, the abuse that haunted her, the sins that weighed on her soul. I listened, and over time, I watched as she slowly started to heal. She told me I had saved her from the edge.
And in helping her, I took a step away from my own edge.
It was then that I began to see the world differently. The darkness never fully leaves, but kindness? Kindness is the one light that cuts through it. I still wear my mask. I don’t remember the last time I acted as my true self, but the mask doesn’t hide who I can become.
Then, there was her—the second girl. She wasn’t like the first. She didn’t come to me broken. In fact, she brought a joy I never knew was possible. Where the first girl helped me understand kindness, this one showed me something deeper. She gave my life a new purpose. She wasn’t someone I needed to heal—she was someone who reminded me of the world that still had beauty, even amidst the cruelty.
The second girl was different. She didn’t beg for help or show weakness; instead, she showed me the strength I didn’t know I needed. With her, I didn’t just feel kindness—I felt alive. She accepted me, not for the mask I wore, but for the person behind it. She saw me.
It wasn’t just about making someone else happy anymore; it was about learning to live, to find joy in the smallest of moments. She taught me that life, despite its brutality, was still worth fighting for. It was the first time I felt like I had found a purpose not rooted in someone else’s pain but in shared happiness.
But here’s the thing: I’m still not the hero. I don’t have superior morals. I’d even say I’m unworthy of being called "good." Yet this second girl made me want to be better than I was yesterday. Her presence made me question everything—why I wore the mask, why I hid from myself, and why I feared living without the weight of the world on my shoulders.
The world remains cruel. People still wear masks. But it’s okay to start from zero. It’s okay to be bad, to stumble, to not know who you are. The world doesn’t need heroes; it needs kindness. It needs people like her—people who remind us of what we’re fighting for.
So, if nothing else, remember this: You are not alone. Even when your mask feels glued to your face and you’ve lost sight of who you are, it’s okay. You can still find your way back. Believe in others, even if they never believe in you. Because in the end, the smallest acts of kindness might just save a life—maybe even your own.
