All For More (Or Less)

I had to stop for a moment and take a day off. It’s been a long time since I felt this sick. But a promise is a promise, and a commitment is a commitment. And so, here I am, defending my life and placing my thoughts in another entry.

Suddenly, I am thinking about the times when there was someone there to care for me. Then again, no one was there. Least of all, someone else who cares for me.
And fevers?
Fevers are a bitch . . .
I know.

Not that I have one now. No, the cramps and aches in my legs and lower back are a bitch. But I am on the mend, I suppose.
Whether this is a stomach virus or something else, I don’t know.
But like I said, a promise is a promise, and a commitment is a commitment. And so, here I am.
Ready or not.
Here it comes.

I have come with my hat in my hand before. I have been taken down to size before. I have humbled myself and faced the charges against me.


Yes, I have been humbled. And humiliation can be a good thing.
No, really. It’s the truth.
Humiliation grounds us and keeps the ego from getting away with murder. Ego can cause us to be the victims of a false representation of self.
And life?
Life can be a bitch too.

Life has a way of reminding us when something isn’t right.
(You know?)
Life wakes you up with painful combinations of truth. This is what comes when life happens and opens your eyes enough to see that you’ve been going at it all wrong.

Sometimes, we act out. Or we rebel against our current situation because we know we want more. And sometimes we settle for less because we know that getting ore is not an option.
But why?

Is it me?
Is it you?
Is it my fear that I am ugly or that I will never be seen as beautiful?
Is this a problem that comes with the constant comparison between us and other people?
And if so, is this a problem within?

Maybe I am beautiful.
Maybe you are too.
Maybe we’ve always been but too many things happened and we failed to see our beauty because who treats beautiful people this way?

There are dreams and hopes and desires that we have. And we need to be true to them. We need to be true to ourselves—or more, we need to be loyal to our authentic self because what’s the alternative?

Is it better to be around the wrong people?
Is it better to live a fake life than no life at all?

What happens when we cheat on ourselves?
What happens when we betray ourselves or fail to push forward?
Do you understand?

I can say that I know what happens when I’ve failed to be true to myself. At the same time, I do understand the feelings that come with redemption.

 I can say there are times when my amends are enough to buy back or pay for something I did wrong. I can do this.
I can improve my self-esteem by doing improvable acts that take back my wrongs.
I still have to answer.
But there are acts that can redeem me.
Even if this is only for a minute.
At least I am redeemed for the minute that passed.

There are times when charity is not something we speak about. No one needs to know and nothing needs to be said.
I don’t need to brag because the truth about charity is that charity has nothing to do with pride.

However, I can see charity as a means for penance.

I cannot stand to see someone who looks or appears helpless.
This hurts me.

Perhaps I’ve told you about the different cries. And some of them are sad. Some cries represent pain. Some cries reflect the desperate feeling of being helpless, like watching someone you love becoming sick or hurt.
And let’s not forget the cries that come when heartbreak comes around. We have all felt this, like, say, when you’ve lost everything and believe as if now you have nothing.
I’ve been there too.
I’ve lost everything. And I’ve lost this more than once.
I was told that if I can build something once then I can build it back again, perhaps even greater.
I don’t always know if this is true.
But I hope so.

However, I understand how hard it is to see the forest from the trees. I know how impossible it seems when you’ve fallen down so low that all you can see is the climb it takes to get back up. I know how intimidating it is to get back up, let alone, be on top of your game again.

I am far from meek. I am further from purity and far from being able to claim that I am more deserving than anyone else.

I saw a girl rolling into a diner in her wheelchair with her family behind her. I was not doing so well with money at the time. But I was doing well enough to make a difference.

 I grabbed her waiter and explained that the family is not to receive a bill. No one knows about this. And the family does not know either.
I had seen this girl before. I had seen her family. And somehow, despite their struggles, they all smiled and stayed polite.

Buying their meal would not change any of this, —and perhaps this might be selfish too. But either way, I wanted the family to have a feeling.

The waiter was told to tell the family that they won a prize. The bill was on the house. No tips would be necessary.
And even now. As I explain this, I weep.
Yes. I weep.
I weep because that little girl had a brilliant smile and an adorable little face. She was pure. Her Father was there. Mom too, And so was the brother.
Maybe there were more at the table, but the way they all seemed and the effect their smile had on me was enough to make me realize I had more than I deserved.

I told the waiter, “Tell them that they won a prize.”
“Tell them that they got a free meal for being with the most beautiful little girl in the world.”

“Tell them anything you want, but whatever you tell them, I don’t want you to tell them that someone else paid for their meal. Understand?”

The waiter agreed.

Does this change anything?
Does this do anything?
I would say no.
And if I say no, then the next question is why bother?
I did this because even for a minute, that little girl felt something good.

 None of this had anything to do with me.
Then again, why bother?

I bothered because I hate being helpless.
Help[less . . .
I hate the word.
I hate the feeling so much that if I could, I would kill the word and butcher it to the core. If allowed, and the word helpless was embodied as an evil person, then I would show a strain of violence that has never been seen before.
To hell with being helpless. . . .

I have met bad people. I have met people who are otherwise monstrous. And I have met people who deserve bad things.
That little girl does not deserve any of this.

I think about the redemption or the amends that come with fessing up and giving back.
I don’t know what kind of cries that little girl has and nor will I ever know about the cries that come from her family when they see her sick.
So, if this is true, —then let me help them smile.
Let me offer this without the accolades or without anyone even knowing.
Let me do this because I know what it means to be without smiles. I know what it means to feel desperate or worthless, or sad and weak, —and to me, nothing about that little girl or her family was desperate or worthless.
Nothing about her was sad or weak.

I said my silent prayer.
“Thank you for teaching me the gift of humility.”
And then I left.

I know that I am imperfect. And I know that I am not so damaged that I cannot be repaired.
But life happens. Life has ways of opening our eyes. Life shows us that we forget to pay attention to the value of our everyday living.
Sure. I can walk. I can wiggle my toes.
That little girl can’t.
But her smile can light up the room like never before. 

I have overlooked so much. I have taken far too much for granted.
And sure. I bitched and I complained.
I’ve been boastful. I’ve been proud.
And hence, I find myself where I am.

I lived too many lives and forgot to be loyal to the one true thing, which is that I am small, afraid, and often petrified that I will be “found out.”
My biggest fear is that I will be exposed and thus, no one will ever want anything to do with me.

I believe this.
I believe in the value of charity and redemption.
I just don’t think this needs to be the cover of your social media page or publicized to say “hey, look at me! I’m a good guy.”

And for the record, am I good?
I can be.
And sometimes, I am the opposite.
I can be angry and filled with resentment and vengeance to the point where my rage cannot be stopped or satisfied.

And as for you?
Am I good?

I cannot say yes or no.
All I can say is that I would do anything –
Sinful or otherwise

Just to make you smile.