the world is a vampire sent to drain

On my way home last night, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. As I looked down, I saw a kid dressed in rags begging for a few loose change. It was a pitiful sight, the kind that brought a subtle pinch to my heart… yet I chose to ignore him. I felt guilty afterwards and the subtle pinch in my heart actually started to sting.

My friend and I were talking about this the night before. (You know how it is when people get drunk…it’s either they drop dead, or they become really mushy. In our case, booze got us into a reflective mood…)

How many times have you felt that gentle tap on your shoulder, or that nagging tug at your hem from somebody who begs for a little help… and you either brush them away or slap them with an apathetic face. If apathy doesn’t work, you flash them your “I’m-so-sorry-I’d-really-like-to-help-you-but-I-can’t” look… or you shower them with pity, hoping it would make a difference. But is it really enough? Does your pity ease their grumbling stomachs?

Tonight, I had dinner somewhere in Makati with Raf… The place was crowded with yuppies, spending loads of bucks on booze...cancer sticks…and some phony elite status… bitching and complaining about their lives or simply parading their flip top gadgets… then I saw myself holding the same bottle, the same stick. I guess that makes me one of them— the ones who call themselves the lucky few. It’s easier to whine and to point out the crappiness of things and find fault. I do it everyday. What we forget to do is to count our blessings.

I’m no Paris Hilton, but I know I’m blessed. I live in a house, while most camp out on the streets… I eat more than 3 meals a day, while some go by with just a piece of bread. I have a stable job while others are pushed to committing felonies to survive…and I have a supportive family, while others are orphans… I HAVE… some people just don’t.

Hard it is to count your blessings, choosing to play the good Samaritan is even harder… especially in a world where parables cease to exist. It’s frustrating when you genuinely want to help, but you’re so stuck on yourself. Our world is fast becoming a reality TV show with everyone turning into mere spectators. It’s like reading a good book… you empathize with the characters so much that you want to dive inside the pages, but you can’t… because it’s not your story. I want to write my own story. I don’t want to change the world (because I know I can’t). But I want to make a difference in my own simple way...the cokemonster way. ;)