Chapter 05 · 4 min 19 sec
Still Worth It
Dignity in honest work — the beauty of a life lived through labour and love.
Lyrics· 374 words
People told me I was foolish For believing what they said For opening my door too quickly For giving more than I ever kept They said I'd learn eventually That kindness only leaves a mark That the world belongs to sinners And soft hearts break apart
Maybe they're right Maybe I've paid the price More than once, more than twice I've been fooled, I've been used I've been disappointed too But if helping ten people only reaches one That's true, then I'd do it all again
Without a second thought Because kindness has a price And I know exactly what it costs It's still worth it I've watched promises unravel I've watched trusts disappear I've watched people take a hit And then vanish when the road got steep
And every scar reminds me Of a lesson life revealed But not a single one convinced me To stop believing people need help Because somewhere out there Someone's carrying the weight They were never meant to carry alone
I've been fooled, I've been used I've been disappointed too But if helping ten people only reaches one That's true, then I'd do it all again Without a second thought Because kindness has a price And I know exactly what it costs It's still worth it
I refuse to let the worst people I meet Decide how I treat the best ones I refuse to let betrayal become wisdom Or disappointment become who I am The world gave me reasons to close every door I just chose not to build Not because I'm blind Not because I'm naive
Not because I expect anything back But because when I look in the mirror I wanna recognize the man looking back Oh, I've been fooled, I've been used I've been broken here and there But if someone truly needs me I still hope I'll be there
I'd rather carry the scars Than lose the part of me That still believes people matter That still believes in decency Because kindness has a price And I've paid it more than once It's still worth it It's still worth it
It's still worth it The cost was real The lesson was real But so was the reason I helped in the first place
*A story about a life well chosen*
There was a man in the village who had done the same thing every day for forty years.
He woke before light. He walked to the bakery he had owned since he was twenty-three. He started the ovens. He made the bread.
Every day. The same bread. The same ovens. The same walk in the dark.
The summer Ana visited her grandparents, she noticed him. He was old, she thought — maybe sixty-five or seventy — and he always seemed to be in a good mood, which she found surprising given how repetitive his life seemed.
One morning she stopped at the bakery while he was arranging the loaves in the window.
"Don't you get bored?" she asked. "Doing the same thing every day?"
He didn't seem offended. He thought about it genuinely. "No," he said. "Should I?"
"I don't know," said Ana. "It seems like it might get old."
He handed her a small roll — the ends were always sold cheaply at this hour — and leaned on the counter. "Tell me something. Have you ever eaten the same breakfast twice?"
"Yes," she said.
"And yet here you are."
She frowned. "That's different."
"Is it?" He straightened up. "I make bread for this village. I have made bread for people who are now grandparents, who come in with their grandchildren, who come in with their own children. The baker's daughter who married the butcher on the other street — I taught her to bake. Three of the young men who have their own bread businesses in the city worked here first." He picked up a loaf. "Every day the same thing. But every day it feeds someone. Every day it is new to the people eating it."
Ana ate her roll on the way back to her grandparents' house and thought about what he'd said.
She'd been taught that a good life meant variety. New places, new achievements, new challenges. She still believed that, mostly.
But she thought there might be another kind of good life — the kind that chose one thing and gave it everything, year after year, without apology.
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*Some people find their life in constant change. Others find it in deep devotion to a single thing. Both are whole lives.*
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