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“So what?”
It started as a whisper in my head when everything began to fall apart. People I trusted — both familiar faces and strangers — turned their backs, took what they could, and left. The job went south, the bills piled up, and the house, once full of laughter, turned into organized chaos.
A five-member family under one roof — three kids running, shouting, crying — and outside, the world didn’t look any calmer. The neighbors were loud, unfriendly, always watching, always judging. Trees were being cut down, the air turned heavy, and water — the one thing that should belong to everyone — became something you had to fight for.
Everywhere I looked, there was a line dividing the rich and the poor, comfort and struggle, greed and survival. And in the middle of it all — me, asking myself, what happened to this world?
And then again, that small voice: so what?
Maybe the world has gone mad. Maybe people have forgotten what kindness feels like. Maybe it’s all upside down now. But so what?
We still have mornings. We still have our kids’ laughter, no matter how loud. We still breathe, still hope, still love.
The world may have lost its balance — but I refuse to lose mine.
So what?