A good person.

Have you ever wondered whether you are actually a good person or not?

Because I have. Plenty of times. That question pops inside my head at random times. I think about it before I sleep, with both eyes closed inside my darkened room. I think about it as I stand under the shower, letting hot water hits the top of my head and glides along my shoulders, down my back, then fall onto the floor. I think about it inside the crowded train and city bus. Have I done something good for other people? For other living beings? Have I, at least, make someone else feeling glad we met? And those thoughts will trail towards bigger question: does my life have any meaning?

I've met many kind people for the past years, and you are one of them. You’re so kind—don’t deny it because it’s a truth. My version of truth, at least. But what if I’m just relying on your kindness? What if I only use them, and you, all this time for my only benefit? That I think anyone is fine as long as they’re nice to me? That I’ve been trying desperately to fill this hole inside my chest which often throbs painfully by taking advantages of your kind heart? What if I’m no more than a manipulative, cruel, horrible person? Did you ever think of it? What if I don’t deserve anyone’s kindness?

z. d. imama