revisited

I once dated a girl who said that goodness is its own reward, though not in so many words--she would never have used such an ugly turn of phrase. Every word she wrote was beautiful. I must have taken her at her word, because I never really thought about it again--or if I did I never questioned it. It's hard to question something beautiful.

Since I was a kid, most of my endeavors have failed, so I've set my goals low. While my friends were aspiring to become wealthy and influential, I simply tried to be good. And because failure follows in my footsteps I often fell short--aspiring too high, I fell to the same petty cruelties as other humans. I couldn't tell the difference between me and anyone else.

Until suddenly it hit me: where others would laugh it off, I spent my life worrying about it. I couldn't get over it. That was my reward: I cared. And I cared so strongly that even when I finally realized that this was no reward at all, I couldn't bring myself to stop. This was important. There was always that chance that one day the failures would stop.