Was it all for nothing?

 

Dear Readers,

I had always been the one to give. When my neighbors needed help, I was there whether it was a broken TV or a child in need of glasses. It didn’t matter that I had little to spare myself; I would find a way. To me, helping was simply a part of life, making the world feel just a little less cold.

One day, I found myself standing in a small, humble shop, paying for a child’s prescription glasses. The parents were good people but struggling, unable to afford even the basics. It was an easy decision for me what were a few hundred rupees when it meant a child could see clearly? I didn’t expect gratitude; I didn’t even want it. I just wanted to help. And for a brief moment, I felt like the world wasn’t such a lonely place.

Years passed, and my kindness continued, flowing from one family to another. I gave a new television to a poor family whose old one had broken. I didn’t stop to count the cost, because, for me, the joy in those children’s eyes was worth more than anything I could measure in money. I wasn’t just providing things I was providing hope, a sense of belonging. At least, that’s what I thought.

But as time went on, something started to shift. I found myself in need. I had given so much, always putting others first, and now the well was dry. my family, the ones who should have been there for me, turned away. my siblings, every one of them seemed to forget the countless times I had stood by them. No calls, no support. The ones I had helped, the ones who owed me nothing, had all moved on. It felt as if I had been erased from their lives.

I couldn’t understand it. Why was it that the more I gave, the more I was left with nothing? The child with the new glasses had long since grown, and the family with the new TV had forgotten who had brought it to them. Even a school I have done some renovation work but still no one will remember. Even my own flesh and blood the ones who owed me not just for material things but for the love and effort I had poured into their lives had abandoned me without so much as a second glance.

I tried to hold onto the belief that it didn’t matter, that I had done well in the world, but the loneliness began to eat away at me. I wasn’t asking for a reward, not really. I just wanted to know that all those sacrifices had meant something. That I, too, was worth something.

But no one seemed to notice. Not a word of appreciation, not a single gesture to show that the love and help I had given had ever made a difference.

In the silence, my heart began to crack, the pieces falling into places I couldn’t fix. I had given everything, and in return, I was left with nothing but the hollow echo of my kindness.

And so, as I sat alone in my empty room in pitch darkness, the weight of betrayal on my shoulders, I wondered: Was it all for nothing?

Jacob M