Failing to change the world


One of my worst fears may be something that not many people may expect or even think of: the fear of dying before being able to change the world.

The world in which we currently live is a rotten world. But when thinking about it, the world is not a rotten world; our world is a rotten world. We have the bad habit of considering only the territories colonized by humans — every part of the world stolen from Mother Nature — when we talk about the world. This way of thinking is mainly caused because we believe we are superior to everything. We may not have the physical strength to face everything, but we have the intelligence needed to compensate that lack of strength.

But that intelligence doesn’t always separate us from the animal kingdom. Because we have the capacity to think doesn’t mean we all think. We can control ourselves but some of us don’t. Our society is full of criminals. People are kidnapped each day; people are  dying each day. People are victims of different kinds of aggression each day; people are victims of frauds each day.

We are all humans and yet we all separated ourselves from each other. Quite a sad reality. You have minorities  and majoritiesrich people and poor people, common people and those of a higher rank. Was there a need for us to get separated that way? Was there a need for us to create a history tainted by blood?

There was no need for such things, but the problem is that people are creatures of mistakes, and some the results of mistakes. We try to learn from our mistakes but no matter how much we try, mankind is cursed to do the same mistakes over and over again — in different forms.

What you read is one of the thoughts that haunt my mind every single day, from day to night. Quite a sad thing. But I don’t regret having those thoughts, because they pushed me towards the path I decided to take. Those thoughts helped me understanding who I really was. Who I really am.

I am someone who wants to make of the world a better place.

However, it’s easier to say than to do. Making of the world a better place is something that may take years to realize. Years. I’m scared that I may die before being able to accomplish my goal. But that fear is also the result of a feeling of uncertainty: I am afraid of making mistakes that will prevent me from accomplishing my goal. And if I were to die before accomplishing that goal, I would die while feeling unsatisfied. Why did I sacrifice my life for? Were all my efforts useless? Those kinds of thoughts haunt me every night.

That fear may seem ridiculous to you, but I simply can’t bear a world covered in darkness.



Lost and found


This work is a fiction.


As I walked down the streets, I saw a box on the ground. There was nothing exceptional about that box — it was nothing but a box made of wood.

There was something written on the side: Lost and Found. I heard about that kind of boxes before; people who lost something would often find what they were looking for in one of those boxes.

Was it just curiosity? I don’t know. What I know is that I was attracted by the box that was lying there. I looked around and noticed that no one paid attention to the box. Did they just think it wasn’t worth their time? I don’t know.

I opened the box and took a look at what was inside: many old objects, some that you wouldn’t find anymore in the 21st century. Wait… is that a collection of Pogs? Yes, it is! The exact same collection I had when I was a child. And isn’t it a power ranger figurine? How long has it been since I last saw a a figurine like this one? I remember when I had my own figurine.

Wait… Isn’t it the pikachu plush I had back when I was 6 years-old? I remember that small ketchup stain behind the ear. And that tennis ball? I can’t mistake it. My name is written on it. And the little star I drew is also there.
Why were all these objects here? I thought they all burnt with my house a long time ago…

I didn’t understand why those objects were in this box or how they got here, but I was a bit scared. Scared of what the box was hiding.

As I looked further into the box, I came across something hard and cold. It was a heart made of glass. A big one. It was quite beautiful on the outside, but the emptiness inside made me sad for some reason. I didn’t remember owning something like that, and my parents never had that kind of sculpture at home.

It seemed like there was a small crack on the right side of the heart,so I decided to take it out of the box — I wanted to take a closer look. Bad decision.

As soon as the heart left the box, it broke into tiny pieces. I couldn’t understand what happened at first, but as soon as the box disappeared in front of my eyes, everything became clear.

The reason why no one saw that box was because it never existed in the first place. The box was simply a representation of my memories and feelings. I lost everything. I was depressed. I was lost. I needed to find myself in the darkness. But I found a light. I finally knew what I had to do to fix my heart. I had to collect each piece and put them together — regardless of how long it may take.

I lost myself.

I found myself.

Letter to a suicidal person


Dear lovely person,

I don’t know you and you don’t know me. However, I learned that you wanted to take away your life so I decided to give you this letter.

You certainly don’t remember the moment your mother gave birth to you, but in her eyes, you were the most beautiful gift she could have ever wished for.

Do you recall the first time you wanted to make your parents proud of you? A pat on the head or a compliment was enough to make you smile. Do you recall the first time you fell in love? That sweet feeling you had whenever you were close to that one person — the person who was different from the others. Do you recall your first fight? The pain made you cry, but it made you grow stronger. Do you recall the first time your heart got broken? You told yourself that everything would be okay, that you would always get back on your feet whenever you would fall down.

At the moment, you’ve fallen deep in the darkness, and you are struggling to get back on your feet. But there’s no need for you to try so hard by yourself. You’re not alone. Do not avoid the hands we’re giving you — nor mine. Getting help from someone doesn’t make you weak; asking help shows you are strong enough to let go of your pride and to walk toward a better and wonderful future.

Why do you want to take away your life? I know you’ve been through a lot — certainly way too much. But I want to give you my suggestion. Feel free to ignore it if you want, but I would appreciate it if you take the time to read it.

Instead of ending your life, I want you to start a new one. Keep the good memories and forget about the rest. Throw away all your bad memories, forget about the people who made you sad, forget about everything that would separate you from happiness. When good memories are all that remain, I want you to create new ones. Stay humble. Don’t ask for much. Be happy and spread happiness around you. Find love. Have kids. Or adopt some. Get a new job. Learn how to play an instrument. Travel to the places you’ve always wished to visit. There are so many opportunities waiting for you to grab them. You only live once so don’t miss that chance.

I hope this letter was able to help you. If it was the case, there is only one thing I want to ask you in return. If you see someone else who is sad or thinking about suicide, please help that person just like that letter helped you.

I wish you a wonderful life full of happiness,


Farewell, my dear friend~ [Part Two]


When my parents got separated, I had to choose between my father and my mother. How cruel to ask a twelve-year-old child to choose one of their parents and to see the other less often? In my case, it was even more difficult. On one hand, there was my mother whom I’ve never really spent time with and who was rather aggressive when I didn’t listen to her. On the other hand, there was my father with whom I spent a lot of time, who watched me grow up and knew how to be firm without being aggressive. I ended up choosing my mother over my father.

The main reason was because I was disappointed. I had a lot of respect for my father, but all that respect fell down when I finally understood that he was cheating on my mother, when she was away, with many women in front of my eyes. He even told me not to say anything to my mother. I was never able to forgive him for all the sadness that happened afterwards.

As a result, I would go with my father during the weekends while I would stay with my mother during the weeks. Prunelle and Pluto stayed with my father, so I couldn’t enjoy their company the way I used to do in the past. No more friends to play with when I would feel lonely at home. No more barking. No more happiness. Nothing.

The first year after my parents’ separation was certainly the cruelest. The first weeks were quite normal. Prunelle and Pluto would jump on me whenever I would arrive in my father’s car. I would play with them during the day and secretly give them food at night. I would then leave on Sundays, saying Goodbye as they would watch me leave — a sad expression on their face that is still painful to remember. However, things started to change after I started to come less and less. My father found a new girlfriend who hated me, and I grew uneasy whenever I would go with him. It came to the point where I started to go with him less and less, making up lame excuses like having tons of homework to do or going to my friends’ houses during the weekend. And the less I saw my father, the less I saw Pluto and Prunelle.

After a while, things changed. Whenever I would go with my father and his girlfriend, Pluto and Prunelle would keep their distance whenever they saw me — as if I was a stranger. Yes, stranger is the right word.  For them, I was nothing more than someone who abandoned them. My father’s girlfriend also had dogs, so when they started living together, she brought her dogs with her. They were two males and were clearly stronger than Pluto. They would often often fight because the other males would try to steal Pluto’s food, but he would never win. He ended up with a lot of scars and ended up losing his will to fight. It was a heartbreaking scene. Poor Pluto.

The loss of will eventually turned into hostility, and he would bark at me or even become aggressive whenever I would try to approach him. Prunelle stayed on his side and refused to let me approach the two of them. Feeling rejected by those with whom I spent many years of my childhood, I lost a piece of my soul. I didn’t approach nor look at them for a long time. I eventually stopped going with my father for a while, after he had his first child with his girlfriend.

When I turned 16, I decided to pay a visit to my father. I haven’t seen him for a while nor had any contact with him, so I wanted to see what kind of life he currently had. He looked way older than what I would have imagined. His hair became way shorter and turned grey; his face had wrinkles. However, he still had the same energy as the father who once took care of me. After talking with him for a moment, I wanted to see something else. I went to the courtyard and searched for those two beings that were once my friends. They may have rejected me in the past, but there was still a chance they changed their mind after all this time. I thought I would see two joyful dogs, but all I saw was two dogs starting to get old and who were looking extremely tired. They didn’t want to do anything or even get up. They were just lying down there. Expressionless. However, one of the two was in a sadder state — Pluto.

I didn’t even have time to guess what was wrong with him that my father came and told me something I never expected — something I didn’t want to expect. Pluto was sick, and there was nothing that could be done for him.

Goodbye Mother~

This work is a fiction.



Today is a good day to take a walk: good weather, sunny day. After locking the front door, I decide to head to the city which is only 15 min from here. Since I live outside of the town, I have to take a rough path with cornfields on each side. I can feel the breeze on my neck — the delicate breeze of a summer day. I like to look at the cornfields: their colour, sparkling under the sunlight, is similar to the colour of Gold — the coveted mineral of many adventurers of the past.

However, today is different. I see something. Small. White. Almost hidden under the corns. I want to see what that mysterious object is — my curiosity will be my fall someday. I leave the path for a moment and jump in the cornfield. It’s an envelope.

What is an envelope doing here? Did the postman drop it by accident? The envelope is a bit dirty, but the name of the receiver and the address are still visible. When I take it, I notice the envelope is half-opened — who knows how long that letter has been standing there?

Once again, my curiosity takes over my body and I decide to open the envelope. I mean.. If it was to be something useless, such as some kind of advertisement, there would be no need for me to give it to the receiver, right? I’m not being lazy, I simply don’t like to use my energy for nothing. It’s a letter. Nice handwriting. The paper seems to be quite expensive.

Dear mother, 

I don’t know if you still remember me, but I hope you still do. 

How long has it been since I last talked to you? 15? 20 years? I can’t remember and honestly, my current state of mind won’t allow me to. Do you remember when I was a little girl, when you used to cook so much food for me, when you were laughing every time I complained about it? Do you remember all the nights we spent on the roof , watching the stars covering the sky? Do you remember all the gifts I made at school for you? How I would always say my mother was the best in the world? How I always said I would be like you someday? 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… No matter how many times I say I am, I will certainly never deserve your forgiveness. I should never have left with that guy that I thought was my soulmate back when I was a teenager who didn’t even graduate from high school. You told me that I would regret it later and I didn’t listen to you. You were right. Ever since I abandoned you, my life has been nothing but mistake after mistake. My boyfriend was not able to get a proper job, nor could I. He started drinking in bars, and soon enough became an alcoholic. He eventually became violent and I decided to leave. I just couldn’t take it anymore. But I had no house to return to. I was so ashamed of what I’ve done to you that I couldn’t face you anymore. 

No money. No car. No house. Hungry. Thirsty. I went from bar to bar, doing anything for money. Anything.

I lost my heart and I lost my soul. I’m glad you are not able to see me at the moment. I want you to remember the sweet little girl that you called daughter, and not the monster I became. I hate what I have become. I have never been able to become like you, and I will never be. I am sorry for being a disappointment. 

But today, I will certainly do the only thing that I can be proud of ever since I left you: I will put an end to that misery. You were the only person in which I was proud, and when I learned that you were still living in the same apartment, I decided to write this letter as a goodbye.

I hope you are living a wonderful life, and I’m sorry for being the first one to join daddy on the other side. 

Your lovely daughter,


The letter breaks my heart. I do not know who that Lisa is, but I feel sorry for the way she had to experience Life. I wonder for how long she had to handle an aching heart, living a miserable and bitter life. At least, she is not suffering anymore. The mother needs to know. I put back the letter in the envelope, then put it in my bag, before heading to the town.

After following the address written on the envelope, I arrive in front of a big building – red bricks covered by tags made by young people at night, dirty windows, wet clothes hanging on the balconies, kids playing in front of the stairs leading to the entrance door. I enter the building and look for the name of Lisa’s mother: she lives on the fifth floor, apartment 12F.

When I arrive in front of the door, I’m suddenly taken by a feeling of uneasiness. How am I supposed to tell her that her daughter died? And what if she doesn’t even remember her? What if she doesn’t want to hear about her daughter? No, I can’t step back now, it’s too late. I came that far to tell her what happened to her daughter and I will do so, no matter what.

I knock on the door and wait for an answer. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. No answer. I ring the bell. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Still no answer. I try to open the door and notice it’s unlocked.

A fool odor comes out of the apartment — the kind of smell you imagine you can get if you never clean your room. I fight my desire to throw up, and make my way to the living room. There, an old woman is laying on the couch. She doesn’t look healthy, and her clothes are so old she can easily be considered as a homeless. It seems she noticed my presence because she is getting up slowly. After turning off the television, she looks at me with lifeless eyes.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’m sorry, the door was opened and-‘

‘And what? You came to steal my money? To rob my house? To kill me?’ she replies, quite aggressively.

I was taken aback by her words. It seems like her life has been as harsh as her daughter’s was. I want to avoid making eye contact with her, so I look around. And on the wall are several pictures of a little girl, smiling like an angel.

‘Is it your daughter?’ I ask, wondering if that little girl is Lisa.

‘Yes, she is. I miss Lisa so much..She has been gone for so long, I wonder how she is doing now,’ she answers, almost sobbing.

‘I’m sorry but-‘

I can’t tell her what happened to her daughter, not after what she said. What kind of cruel person would tell a mother that her daughter not only lived a miserable life, but also ended up committing suicide? Maybe some people can, but  I can’t.

‘but what?’ she asks, starting to be impatient.

‘but in fact, I came here to talk to you about your daughter,’ I continue, after a moment of hesitation.

‘Did something happen to her? Is she okay?!’

‘Your daughter is living a wonderful life. She is a friend of mine and I happened to come across her while I was eating in a restaurant. She told me about you and how much she is proud of having a mother like you. She asked me to tell you, in case I was to meet you one day, that she was doing fine and that you didn’t need to worry about her anymore.’

The smile I can see on her face as I say those lies is enough to let me know that I did the good choice.

After drinking a cup of tea and listening to her stories about Lisa, I say my goodbyes to the old lady and leave the building.

Lisa, I’m sorry about what happened to you and I’m sure you didn’t want things to end up like that. I cannot do anything for you, but making your Mother proud of you is my gift for you.