This I believe. I believe that life is not fair. When you are born, automatically your fate is decided. Some people will be born smarter than you, some will be wealthier, and others more successful. It won’t matter on how much work you put behind a particular thing because in the end, there is someone who always has it better than you.
However, that is not the reason I find it hard to put faith behind life being fair. The reason it is difficult for me to believe such words is because in life, some of the kindest people will go through the worst times.
My life hasn’t been easy, in fact, it has been quite the roller coaster. My mother was impregnated at the young age of seventeen and I came around her eighteenth birthday. My father was a ruthless man who often abused her, sold drugs, stole cars, and other illegal activities. If my mother didn’t give him what he wanted, spiteful words would emit from his lips and he would result in violence. There came a time when I was still a child where my mother was coming home later from work than usual. For whatever the reason, my father was angry and when my mother’s car came rolling by, he pushed my stroller that carried me in it out in the middle of the road. My mom had to swerve to avoid killing me.
My mother is a kind-hearted person. She has never done a thing to harm anyone and yet, she was constantly faced with people whom threw her the worst. We fled Germany later on and moved to America. When I moved, immediately I was seen as an outcast due to the fact that my English was choppy and most of my sentences didn’t make sense. I would constantly say my “th’s” as if they were “f’s” and my “w’s” as “v’s.” The people I cared the most about, turned against me and joined others in teasing the way I speak or look.
I got over such mean words and actions soon enough and was enjoying life until my grandmother passed away during my seventh grade year. My mother was quite upset and so was I upon seeing her sadness. I began to believe that if life would continue to constantly throw horrible things at my mother and I, then there would be no point to it. My mind became a dark cloud and every thought was something negative. I slowly became depressed and saw myself crumbling apart. This continued until the end of my eighth grade year and throughout that time, I had cut and attempted suicide three times. I didn’t want to disappoint my mother out of the fact that I knew there was nothing I could do to draw the pain and sadness from her past and her future. I felt useless and I kept asking myself, “Why is life doing this to my family? Why can’t we be happy for once?” I kept wondering, “Why is it that everytime something good came along, something awful would follow?” It was a dark time for me. My behaviors became ruthless and I stopped caring for myself and those around me. I became mean and saw myself being rude to my mother as well. That is when I knew I needed to stop.
At the end of that year, I started working on myself again. I came to understand that I shouldn’t let life create me into a monster just because I was envious of how others had it better. I helped out more, kept a positive outlook in my household, and did my best to help those who were going through the same things I had. I knew that while life wasn’t fair, I shouldn’t sit and mope about my problems when I could go out and help someone with theirs.
I still struggle with small residue of depression and that self-doubt that I could never help as much as I should but I use that to inspire and strengthen me. I believe that even though life isn’t fair, it shouldn’t stop you from living to the fullest.
Life isn’t fair, but if it was, there would be no point and this I believe.
