My life as a box of Kleenex!

Our teacher once asked us that if we ever had to write a book about our life, what would we call it?... I guess I'd call mine "My life as a box of Kleenex"

I am a good friend.

That's a statement which I can proudly say. But does anyone know how much effort goes behind that?

My entire life till this far has been a series of people who I have been used and abused by... I am the box of Kleenex who is there for everyone whenever they need me.. To wipe their dirt on, to wipe away the tears for, share their sweat with and to help mop up any mess they made and then once used, to be finally crumpled up and thrown away into the waste paper basket.

Why do I do this? Why am I the friend who will call you up randomly in the middle of a busy day just to tell you to hang in there… The friend who keeps in touch just to let you know that you are not alone, the one always makes the short and sweet plans just to meet up, keeps track of all the birthdays and other events in your life just to surprise you. Buys you a gift whenever I see something that I know you would like, when out shopping (without waiting for the occasion) and like your handy box of Kleenex, make an effort to always be there to lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on or to simply sit in silence to listen to your woes or give you company.

Why do I do all these things and expect nothing in return? So far people have always forgotten about me in return.

Do I do this because I am great? Or because I am an idiot? This can always be argued.

Do I fill the hole for other peoples’ hearts because mine is irrevocably broken to the point of no return? Perhaps?

Do I do all of the things for others that I secretly covet for someone to do for me? Maybe?

Am just so broken that all I know how to do is fix other people? Sounds compelling.

But the truth is - I don't know... I really don’t.

At the end of the day I have a smile on my face because I have fought my silent battle to help make the world for the people around me a better place... Yes they may use me and throw me away and move on with their lives.. Not give me any outward acknowledgement or on occasion any sincere gesture to show that I even exist! But the battle that took place has been recorded in the history of my mind. It may also be forgotten someday but I will always know the part I played in it to help them win their sanity and comfort.