 |
| Happiness is an illusion, yes. And we are all drunk on it. |
As we drove hundreds of kilometres into the middle of
nowhere, I started to wonder if there were people living there at all. Two tiny
rivers had uprooted entire villages, and people were in need of clothes, food, housing
and most importantly, of hope. We couldn’t
bring back the ones they lost, couldn’t built everybody, or anybody for the
matter, a house.
People ran up to us, greeted us, some with tears in their eyes.
We distributed food and other essentials. I could even see some toddlers eating
biscuits that we just gave them. Nothing, nothing in this world can give you as
much joy as seeing someone happy after you know you helped them in whatever way
you can.
I had, at times, given up faith in God. I had wondered why
He was so unfair, so unkind to me. I had been depressed; thought nothing in
this world is worth living for. I
thought only I knew what depression was, what it feels like when you don’t even
know when it is day, or when it is night. I tried everything, pretended to be
happy, and tried to get high, tried to scream, tried to keep quiet. For months,
I succeeded. I succeeded in running away from people, hating people, not
trusting people. I closed up and made walls around me.
But, when a wrinkled old lady who could barely walk came up
to me and shook my hands with all the energy she had and said ’thank you’ in an
almost inaudible utter, I knew that I was truly happy and that we only rise by
lifting others. There are uncountable people out there about whom nobody knows
or cares and who need help. They are
suffering from illnesses that can be easily cured, they are craving things some
of us take for granted.
I used to think I’m broken and I’m hurt. But, boy was I wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment