Through my sixteen years on this planet, I have met so many people; each one differs externally, and yet, internally, we are all withering – marching towards our death to the beat of our slowing hearts. Though our time here is limited to our flesh-bound bodies, I do believe that everyone has an opportunity to do their version of “good” at some point in their life. 

My “good” deed is helping my friend, Enix, in late July of this year.

At this point, I knew him for maybe five days. I was able to piece together a few things about him that I knew he wouldn’t want to talk about – his father foremost. I only could imagine what could have happened, but it was enough to make my gut wrench. Him and I weren’t close in words, but in a way beyond words.

It had been a rough day for me (trouble at home, spiraling thoughts – the usual), so I took some time for myself and was in my room attempting to cry; but, all I could focus on was this other kid named Mike rapping – horribly. I think I even got up to go slam the door because I couldn't take it anymore, but, of course, I could still hear his repetitive grumbles through the thin, lifeless drywalls.

After maybe twenty-or-so minutes of unsuccessful crying, I was struck alert to a knock on the door and a swift entry of scrub-laced legs scraping against one another. In my blurred vision, a familiar figure stood and told me Enix needed me.

I exit my room to see Enix, on the floor, crying loudly and mumbling incoherently. 

I sat down next to him and I wish I could remember what I told him (or what he told me); but what I do remember is making him laugh a teary-eyed chuckle that sounded like golden sunbeams pouring through rain clouds.

And through my many hardships and challenges, I have learned that true kindness may not appear large in scale, but a little can go a long way.