Can You Live The World You Want?

“Why must you keep doing that?” Carla complained to Joy. “Every meeting we have, they keep comparing all of us to you.”

With furled brows and confusion etched on her face, Joy asked, “What did I do?”

“You always do the right things,” Carla criticized.

“It’s the only way I know to live a life without stress and keep the job I love.”

“You do more than you should,” she went on.

“I just do my best,” Joy explained.

“Well,” she said bursting in anger. “Your best is creating problems for us.”

“How?”

“If there are awards to be given out, your name is at the top of the list. If promotions or anything else is given to the employees here, you are first in line. You are doing the same things you did in high school and college causing us to be constantly being compared to you,” she rants.

“And what is that?” Joy demands.

“Trying to be perfect,” Carla recalls.

“I was also the poorest. So, I had to do extra work if I wanted to earn a scholarship,” Joy shoves back.

“We took the school bus home. Teachers fight among themselves who should take you back to the slum you live in.”

“I lived in a violent, crime infested impoverished area that the school bus refused to go in.”

“And with all that hell you were feasting on, you still outdid us.”

“I had more to fight for, but less to fight with,” Joy recalled her struggles and the hell she endured.

Weirdly eyeing her, “so you are saying because I came from wealth, I have more to fight with but less to fight for?”

With popped eyes, Joy clapped her saying, “for the six years of high school and four years of college, plus our two years of working here, that is the smartest thing I have ever heard you say.”

“I am smart,” she defends.

“If there are awards to be given out, your name is at the top of the list. If promotions or anything else is given to the employees here, you are first in line. You are doing the same things you did in high school and college causing us to be constantly being compared to you,” she rants.

“And what is that?” Joy demands.

“Trying to be perfect,” Carla recalls.

“I was also the poorest. So, I had to do extra work if I wanted to earn a scholarship,” Joy shoves back.

“We took the school bus home. Teachers fight among themselves who should take you back to the slum you live in.”

“I lived in a violent, crime infested impoverished area that the school bus refused to go in.”

“And with all that hell you were feasting on, you still outdid us.”

“I had more to fight for, but less to fight with,” Joy recalled her struggles and the hell she endured.

Weirdly eyeing her, “so you are saying because I came from wealth, I have more to fight with but less to fight for?”

With popped eyes, Joy clapped her saying, “for the six years of high school and four years of college, plus our two years of working here, that is the smartest thing I have ever heard you say.”

“I am smart,” she defends.

“I know,” Joy agrees. “You don’t have much to fight for, so you allow your incredible abilities to remain idle getting you in lots of trouble, your parents wealth had to bail you out of.”

“So, poverty is the reason why you don’t get into trouble?”

“Like I said, less to fight with, but more to fight for,” Joy repeats.

“So, when does the fight end?”

“When you are dead,” Joy caught the ball of fear in her eyes as it rises then dips below the surface.

“You mean I will have to start fighting too?” The fear returned to her heart, that showed on her face.

“Rich or poor, black or white all of us must fight life. For the poor, the fight begins at birth. The rich begins when life gives them a reason to.”

“So, life will give me a reason to fight?” Carla asked, easing closer.

Joy nods, as the fear spread across her face.

“So, fighting life is how you out did all of us. And here on the job, it’s the same.”

“Fighting with less demands more of me. I had a scholarship to maintain, and one mistake would cost me my dream.”

“But you don’t make any,” Carla recalls the many things she did to distract and get her into trouble.

“Everyone makes mistakes. I just learn quickly from mine and don’t repeat them.”

“You never made any in school and college,” Carla recalls the many traps she and her crew set for her that failed.

“I was raised to be aware and identify the many forms and disguise cruelty and hatred comes in,” Joy’s memory met hers reading the pain in each other’s eyes.

“So, you became Miss perfect,” she slams dunk.

Staring at her directly, Joy elaborates, “No, I just live the world I want.”

“So, when Gina offered you the answers to our last finals and you refused to cheat, you were living the world you want?” Carla asks.

“I know,” Joy agrees. “You don’t have much to fight for, so you allow your incredible abilities to remain idle getting you in lots of trouble, your parents wealth had to bail you out of.”

“So, poverty is the reason why you don’t get into trouble?”

“Like I said, less to fight with, but more to fight for,” Joy repeats.

“So, when does the fight end?”

“When you are dead,” Joy caught the ball of fear in her eyes as it rises then dips below the surface.

“You mean I will have to start fighting too?” The fear returned to her heart, that showed on her face.

“Rich or poor, black or white all of us must fight life. For the poor, the fight begins at birth. The rich begins when life gives them a reason to.”

“So, life will give me a reason to fight?” Carla asked, easing closer.

Joy nods, as the fear spread across her face.

“So, fighting life is how you out did all of us. And here on the job, it’s the same.”

“Fighting with less demands more of me. I had a scholarship to maintain, and one mistake would cost me my dream.”

“But you don’t make any,” Carla recalls the many things she did to distract and get her into trouble.

“Everyone makes mistakes. I just learn quickly from mine and don’t repeat them.”

“You never made any in school and college,” Carla recalls the many traps she and her crew set for her that failed.

“I was raised to be aware and identify the many forms and disguise cruelty and hatred comes in,” Joy’s memory met hers reading the pain in each other’s eyes.

“So, you became Miss perfect,” she slams dunk.

Staring at her directly, Joy elaborates, “No, I just live the world I want.”

“So, when Gina offered you the answers to our last finals and you refused to cheat, you were living the world you want?” Carla asks.

“I want a kinder world. I give kindness. I want an honest world. I do the right things with honesty. I want a peaceful world. I learn to get along with the devil while living in hell. I want a world with love. I add nothing hateful to it. I want a better world; I became a better human being adding nothing cruel or hateful that would incite violence or grow anything negative that could harm humanity.”

Carla stared at her in shock and said, “You think all of what you do will make our world a better place?”

Smiling, Joy said, “For me, it has. And if more humans start living the better world they want, nothing can stop change from happening!”

Silence played its tune for a while as Carla battled with the truth, then sighed asking, “you said being poor gave you less to fight with, but more to fight for. And wealth gave me more to fight with but less to fight for.”

Joy nods thinking, ‘damn, I am reaching her heart.’

“Who wins?” she asked, blinking as tears flooded her eyes.

“The ones who never stop fighting. Now go and live the better world you want,” Joy encouraged.

“You really believe that crap?

“No matter our race, creed, religion, geography, demographics, culture, likes, dislikes, etc., if more humans decided to live the better world they want, nothing can hinder change or take our happiness away!” Joy hit back.

“Damn!” she said, staring at Joy. “I think you believe that is possible!” Carla said.

“Wanna try it?” Joy teased.

Thank you for reading this piece.