I was born with a mission—to be the voice where silence prevailed, to uphold justice where convenience reigned. I was never swayed by the echoes of the crowd nor seduced by the strength of the many. My principles, unwavering; my values, deeply rooted.
Yet, time does not negotiate with purpose. The years have come, each carrying its own weight, its own lesson, its own wound. The truth remains unchanged: it was always me who welcomed the unwelcome, who carried the weight no one else wished to bear. And so, my turn arrived—not in triumph, but in solitude. Now, nothing remains but me.
I was once an 80—vast, unshaken, limitless. A van, even a bus, that never charged a fare. For years, I opened my doors beyond capacity, embraced more than I could hold. And as all things stretched beyond their limits, I, too, began to break. The passengers, once eager, found other means of travel. Until the day came when the engine could no longer roar, and I found myself on the roadside, hand extended, asking for a ride.
But the world is a place where generosity is conditional, where kindness is often a currency, and debts are collected in silence. The rides became fewer, the refusals louder, until even the rain became my only company. So I walked—through storms, through puddles deep enough to reflect a self I barely recognized.
And when, at last, I offered my final coin for passage, even that was refused.
Today, my steps are no longer those of an 80. They are an 8, curled inward, shrinking, folding upon themselves. Around me, neither people nor the much-praised AI-built machines of tomorrow. They say the world belongs to the strong. I say it belongs to the sincere. To those who carry the weight of humility, not as a burden, but as a truth.
Vulnerability should never be the reason for rejection. It is, and has always been, the purest form of love.
Thirty years, and all I hold is an award made of cork. But the mission does not end. The mission never ends.
submitted by /u/RTIM11
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