Tragedy is a constant presence in life. It’s not always front and center, but it’s always there, usually waiting just around the corner. It’s a street corner that we all hope we’ll never reach. And when we do reach it, even if we knew that we were going to reach it eventually, it comes as a surprise. We weren’t supposed to actually get there, the street was supposed to be longer, how did it all go by so fast? We miss the innocence of childhood, when nothing could hurt us, at least not in any real way. At least that’s how I felt.

But then I actually thought about my childhood. And I realized it wasn’t all that innocent. Sure, I had it fairly easy. I had a good home life, friends, a school that I didn’t hate. But at the same time, I wouldn’t call my childhood self innocent.

Children are, quite frankly, pretty selfish. They think that the whole world revolves around them, that the world is a story and that they’re the main character. They put themselves above others because, well, they don’t know any better.

When I was a kid, I had a marionette. It was small, creepy, and looked a little too much like white Michael Jackson. And for some reason, I was absolutely convinced that it was going to come to life and kill me. So what did I do? I made it stay in my parents’ room, because I thought it might kill them first and then I’d have time to escape. The point is, as fantastic and silly as kids are, they’re kind of awful at the same time.

So losing that childhood innocence can be so good for you, because it helps you realize that you’re not the only one in the world who matters, or who has problems. The world is, to be blunt, pretty awful. It’s cruel and random, and it’s cruel and random to everyone. And realizing this doesn’t have to make you bitter. It made me nicer.

When I realized that everyone is the hero of their own story, and that they could all be potentially dealing with their own personal tragedies, it became so much easier for me to empathize. I try, in general, to be nice to everyone, because I don’t want to make their lives worse. The world knocks everybody down sometimes, so I might as well spend my time trying to help people back up. I don’t even have to like someone to be nice to them. Being kind, even to jerks, just makes everything easier, and hopefully my example inspires them. The world is awful enough on its own, why spend time making it worse?

This is all a bit clichéd . Nothing I’ve said here is really original (except the part about my Michael Jackson marionette), but that’s okay. Because I think we all need a little reminder sometimes. Life can be mean. Life can be  painfully short. So I say we should spend our lives making other people and ourselves happy, even if it’s just to prove life wrong.