There are times when I sit and wonder if I’m a bad person. I try hard to make people’s lives better, but it always seems to bite me in the ass. My father spent a lot of his life helping people, with money, advice, time… And he died at 50. Is that what’ll happen to me if I keep trying to be a good person? Will I spontaneously drop dead should I do so many good deeds in my life?
I’m also left wondering why when I help people, it’s often never reciprocated. I don’t ask for it to be, but you’d think it a common curtesy to return the favour should you yourself eventually need it… A pick me up, a few quid for a sandwich when you’re a bit short… Y’know, nothing big or anything.
And then I’m left sitting here, wondering still if I made a mistake helping those I’ve helped. Do they appreciate it? Do they even care? Do they want to care, I suppose is a better question. I don’t know what the point of this is, I just felt the need to put my thoughts down on ‘paper’.
I suppose the end result of this thing is “why do I want to help?” And that’s a question I really don’t know the answer to, because I generally don’t see any reward for doing it. Is it that I’ve been raised to believe if you can help folks you care about to improve themselves, you should? Or is it some more selfish desire to feel powerful in the ability to lift another person out of their troubles…
I don’t know. Still. It stings a bit. Y’know, helping, always has that bitter aftertaste down the line.