A (very) short story about the value of a life.
|Our lives are merely raindrops in a vast ocean.
I stared up at the graffiti-covered brick wall, all attempts at an early morning run forgotten. After all, if the person responsible for this work was right, what difference would it make?
Blaring horns filled the air like a hundred alarm bells warning of danger. Here I stood unmoving, yet the traffic a ways behind me rushed on, unfazed by the contemplative girl on the sidewalk. I wouldn't expect any different.
Was this what it meant? That our lives were independent of one another, our actions affecting nothing and nobody but ourselves?
No, that couldn't be it. Even the slightest of actions could change the course of a life or many. These are the words of a person who doesn't know how much they matter, though insignificance is a feeling that plagues all our minds.
Everyone feels worthless at some point or another. Lives are like dollar bills. They can be crumpled, stepped on, and often lost. In that moment they seem like nothing more than how they were treated, but they never lose their value.
I turned and started running once again. I ran away from the thoughts of a stranger and towards a destination I didn't yet know; I ran because life is so much more than a walking shadow.
Glancing back at the wall, which was now a block or so back, I smiled. Yes, my life was a raindrop as well, but without it the ocean would not be the same.