“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

You’re like …

A tiny, withered leaf
On  concrete ground —
Invisible except to those who look down,
Unappreciated save for a few sensitive souls
(Who see it and wistfully smile)
Too small to catch anyone’s attention
But for the sweeper’s who thinks
It does nothing for the neatness of the ground.


Some people feel so small; they feel they have nothing to contribute to this world, that nobody knows them, that nobody likes them. They are worse off than Dostoevsky’s man from the underground, who at least thinks/knows he is smart.

These people feel that when they finally leave this world, nobody will mourn them, nobody will remember them. There will be no flowers on their graves.

I feel small, too, but only when I think of the massiveness of the universe; I feel I am extremely insignificant. What does my life matter to the universe? It will go on, and not a thing about it will change when I die because I am just a speck of dust in its vastness.

But then again….

One may be small, seen and appreciated by only a few. But who needs too many people in one’s lifetime? One cannot possibly know all their names and all their stories. One only needs a few sensitive souls to see through one’s soul.

Though one may be small, insignificant to most, one can be the world to somebody else. One can make oneself the center of somebody’s universe by one’s selflessness and sincerity and generosity.

Make your life matter.