Yesterday I discovered something that disturbed me on many levels (fourteen to be exact. I discovered that not all people are good. One might think that I would have figured this out after someone stole my backpack. Or after a crazy person decided to start lurking around my house late at night. Or after those oranges I ate last night gave me a stomach ache.

Well I didn’t figure out and I continued to live in blissful ignorance, following people who promised me candy and eating things I found on the ground. But now I have figured it out and I’ll tell you the story. It happened when I tried to do a good deed for someone and he repaid me by giving me a bad deed. At this point in time I also discovered that I don’t like bad deeds. That’s also the end of the story because I don’t really want to type up in detail the events.

Anyway, I got depressed over this (hence eating 8 oranges) and thought that maybe the world isn’t all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. If it was, there would be saliva all over from people trying to lick the lollipop houses. That should have been my first clue.


So the moral of the story is, stay in your house because it’s a dark world out there.


Just kidding. After attempting to counter the acid building up in my stomach from eating 8 oranges by consuming one litre of milk (BASIC FOODS DO NOT CANCEL OUT ACIDIC FOODS), I got to thinking. I thought about all of the good people who outweigh the bad people. And I don’t mean in terms of physical weight (although seriously guys, there are these things called “gyms”) but in terms of numbers.

Good people like my friends who make sure I don’t get lost in big cities and make sure that I start wearing shoes when it starts to snow. Or like my ex-housemates who didn’t kick me out when I was too poor to pay for heating. Or my current housemate who doesn’t complain when my alarm clock goes off 17 times between 7am and 7:30am and who leaves me chocolate bars in the cupboard even though I sometimes leave the key in the door overnight. Or like the crazy lurker who, while I would like him to go away, has never tried to enter our house when I leave the key in the door. Or like the people who helped me reconstruct an entire scholarship application when my backpack containing the application was stolen the night before it was due. Or like my parents who, despite their best efforts, have been unable to sell me and consequently allow me to come home at Christmas and even emerge from the cellar on Christmas morning. Or like the guy in India who, when I passed out in the hospital with a blood parasite, made sure I saw a doctor and forced some kind of medication down my throat. Or like my cat who has a red collar.

All of these people, and many others, are good and I want to thank them for restoring my faith in humankind


The moral of the story is, I should be studying.