13th december, thursday, 2018
dear diary,
It appalls me, how lives can be shattered in a moment. Souls can be ripped apart. So much pain inflicted by one hateful mind.
Why do people hurt each other?
It's scary how long it takes to build something good and beautiful, and how easily it can be destroyed. It leaves me wondering how will good ever win over evil?
How can the brainwashed terrorists be made clean again? I picture a good man going up to an injured one, healing him with love and care, showing him what it is like to experience love — a process that can take months.
And then I picture the terrorist figuring it out, not liking it, and shooting the good man. That's it. All the love and goodness inside of him, something he's cultivated all his life, gone from this earth by the pull of a trigger.
It terrifies me how beautiful things can be damaged so easily by those who don't appreciate beauty.
So I haven't been able to decide: is having a soft heart in this cruel world a weakness, or courage? Is it naïve? Is it unrealistic?
Imagine this:
Someone hacks into my YouTube account, goes to settings, and chooses 'delete'. All my hard work and effort, a piece of my soul, gone with just the click of a button.
A wedding is going on. A criminal enters out of nowhere, and shoots the groom with a gun. The bride, who has been waiting forever to marry the man of her dreams, standing there helpless, powerless, frozen to inaction.
A family, torn apart by a bullet.
The only hard copy of a novel written with the dedication of 3 years, burned by an abusive parent.
A woman, pregnant with the child of a man she's in love with and with whom she has waited to start a family, stabbed in the stomach just because she's Sikh, during the Sikh Riots in India.
Is it possible to bring about a change in people, to make them see the light, by being good to them all the time? Is it possible to live like that and not be harmed in any way? Can people be good and not be taken advantage of?
When I was young and my brother and I had to share just one laptop, he would often use it to play silly video games, while I would use it for Wattpad. We fought often.
He was an insensitive asshole and had no control over his temper. Sometimes I would be using the laptop, writing, doing something productive, and he would enter my room, fight with me, and have the audacity to try to snatch it from me. Sometimes, when I used it for a long period and had him waiting for too long, he would come in, start barking, whining, crying and disturbing my peace of mind till I gave it to him. Once or twice, I remember he walked up to me, pressed the power button while I was still typing, and turned off the laptop, causing me to lose my drafts. I couldn't even tell mom because she said that both of us were to have equal time. I hadn't told anyone that I was working on a novel. And even if I had, no one would have taken it seriously. What can a 14-year-old write apart from silly fantasies? I imagined them thinking. I know what I've written is something unique and not really done by anyone on this site before.
I felt caged. It can be so frustrating to live with people who are less emotionally mature than yourself.
Today, I vow never to give such kind of pain to anyone, ever. Not even to someone who has hurt me. I don't want to be the reason behind someone's grief. I am not a hateful person, and I will never let myself be guided by hate.
❄
YOU ARE READING
Old Yellow Pages ✓
Teen FictionA girl with a diary of pages yellowed with age, in search of herself, sitting in the oddest of places: sometimes on a staircase, sometimes at the top of a slide, sometimes on the branch of a tree; writing about life, the way she sees it. 🏆 Winner b...
