Faith in Humanity Lost

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Something is wrong with our society.

Such is the conclusion I have made this 21st day of July 2012. I have known this fact for years, of course; the morals of our society and our world in fact have been steadily dropping over the years. We have had murderers who butcher their victims alive, thieves who steal from millions, and of course the smiling face of a man in power while he leaves his country to rot. But today I have witnessed cruelty first-hand; today, my friend’s cellphone was pick-pocketed. I can hear you face-palming already. With so many people doing so many crueler things, how can a measly pick-pocketer compare to their caliber? It’s like comparing an ant to a snake, or a rat to a bull. But that does not make what he did any less wrong. And it wasn’t what he did that made me disgusted anyway; it was what he did afterwards.

Let me start from the beginning. My friend, let’s call her Derpina, was commuting to my house. Along the way, she found out that someone stole her phone, an insignificant phone with no real monetary value. Panicking and afraid, she asked two nearby street children if they saw anyone take something from her bag. They said yes, and told her directions to her house. Out of a spur of the moment bad choice, my friend followed the street children as they brought her to a rickety old house with broken windows and chipped of paint. It seemed to be empty, but she dared not venture inside. Instead she went and told a police officer. One that looked at her with indifference and seemed to not care that the girl in front of him was near tears. After the police officer when who-knows-where, she quickly came to my house where she met another one of our friends, and me of course. She begged for the use of my phone because she wanted to contact the man that stole it. I knew of course, that chances were slim the thief would give it back. But she still believed, she still had hope in her eyes, even in the face of cruelty. It was touching, so I gave her my phone. As expected, there no answer.

At the beginning.

After the third or so try, the man picked up. My friend looked like she won the lottery, her prayers have been answered, man picked up. Perhaps he was not as cruel as she though. And so she begged, begged him to give it back. It was a cheap phone, she said, it won’t give him much money. “Please, please please, just give it back. I am here at ‘X’, please! Please come here and give it back, please! Please answer me, please please! Please, I’m begging you; it’s not my phone. PLEASE!” And then he hung up. But before he did, she said he heard him laugh. Anger, revulsion and disgust filled me at once. Here was kind and gentle girl, always caring, always loving, always thoughtful. She begged the thief to give it back, begged and begged and near tears. She clung onto foolish, childish hope, and it was answered in laughter. He was enjoying hurting my friend; he was having fun hear her beg. The man gave her the hope by answering the phone, and then crushed it with joy and merriment. Was hearing his victim’s cries music to his ears? Was her begging a punch line to some sick joke?

What if those were the morals he taught his children; to laugh at the innocent as they cry and beg. To hear their cries with deaf ears, a heart of ice, and sadistic glee. And what if there were thousands of people like these? People who take pleasure in other people’s sufferings? How then can our society progress, with people like those polluting it?

By this time a large group of my friends had arrived at my house. We consoled our friend who was on the verge of tears but managed to keep it all in. We told her to just stop contacting him because we were certain he wouldn’t give it back. He stole if from her willingly and he wouldn’t have went through all that trouble just to give it back. We also didn’t want her to talk to the man anymore because we were scared for her. She told her where she was standing, what she was wearing, her age, her year, and even her name. All in the hopes of getting the phone back. She clung to that hope with every ounce of her strength, all because the man was answering her calls. Her choice was made, and he could do nothing but watch our friend get toyed with. It was a difficult sight, but there was nothing we could do. Her kind heart forced her to believe there was some good in this pathetic excuse for a man.

She called and called, and whenever the man picked up she pleaded him to return the phone. She told him she’d give him whatever he wanted, even if she wasn’t rich. But as always, nothing but silence or laughter greeted her. Then she tried texting, and the man always replied with a sarcastic tone, and made my friend look like a fool. After a while he finally removed the sim card, and all contact with him was lost. She looked devastated when that happened, but I was relieved. At least now she wouldn’t be some man’s plaything just so he wouldn’t be bored at the afternoon.

It if was me, I wouldn’t have begged the man. Heck I wouldn’t even have called. Instead, I would vent my anger and frustrations by calling him every horrendous name I knew. My friend, on the other hand, didn’t even swear. Instead, she told us it was all her fault. She blamed herself for being a victim of a thief, she blamed herself for something she couldn’t stop, she blamed herself for another man’s cruelty. She was an epitome of kindness, and her kindness was repaid with laughter. And so I concluded there is wrong with our society, when there are men like that: men who laugh at other people’s suffering, who laugh at other people’s cries. That was when I thought that there truly must be something wrong with our society when there are men like that. And if he is reading this, then I want him to know that I think he is trash. He is filth, putrid disgusting filth that has no place in the country.





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