Whisper

N.B. I look back at what I wrote yesterday, and so much of it resounds even stronger with me today. I have no words to describe the depth to which my heart sunk as I walked around the "houses" that stand so close to the dump. The smell only grounded the images of poverty deeper into my mind.

Today I have experienced a range of emotions - guilt, hopelessness, mourning - but now I can only feel angry. At myself. Angry for all the times I cried about how rubbish my life was. Angry at all the times I wished I had more money - or complained I was hungry or tired. Angry at the years I wasted in school not doing anything. Angry that I live in a country where so much goes to waste. Angry that I have waited so long to do something. Angry that there are so many who have the power to do something and don't.

And yet, somewhere amongst all that, somewhere through the silence of the night, there is a small voice that whispers through the cloud to me. A voice that says, "What now?"