What if?

Could you die for someone?

Let me rephrase. Do you love someone, anyone, enough to die for them?

Keep thinking. Don't answer yet. When I say die, I'm not talking about a vague abstract. No hero disappearing into the dark, or drifting away underwater, or dying a noble death held in some sobbing person's arms. I'm talking about bloody and painful. Where you feel every inch of your life draining away in a coppery stream, where the excruciating feeling of whatever is killing you is nothing compared to the knowledge that you are ending--that everything you've ever known is disappearing, forever? Could you brave suffocation? Fire? Ripped and torn and bleeding skin? Shattered bones?

Either hesitation...or a firm yes, as you think of that one person. All right. You could do it--as long as the person you loved was safe. In your chair, right now, you might feel the slightest hint of noble intentions (be wary--these often come back to bite you in your sit-down-upon). After all, it wouldn't be so bad if they knew what you did for them, right? If they knew you loved them, and they loved you back as much?

Well. What if it were different? What if they never knew at all? Would you feel like it was a waste, if your sacrifice was unnoticed, unappreciated? If you could somehow look back after death, and see him or her going about their life without a single thought of what you did--perhaps forgetting you altogether. Would it be worth it then?

Perhaps more hesitation. The "Yes" might be fainter. You may begin to frown. No, that isn't right. That's not how it's supposed to be--taking somebody's place should leave some kind of memory, or love, or even gratitude.

Here's the kicker. What if they hated you for it?

Would you save your friend, brother, sister's life if they lived it believing you to be a traitor? Betrayer? Coward? If they thought of you only to despise what  you had done? That kind of misunderstanding that festers with its being left unresolved...forever. What if, eventually, that hatred simply became indifference, and you passed out of memory? Forgotten except with contempt?

Look back at the person in your mind. Imagine them looking back at you with anger, snarling, face twisted into a mask of rage. Knowing this, would you still allow the life to be ripped out of your soul for them?

Would you die for somebody else now? Anybody?

I wish I knew what you were thinking. I want to know.

I know I'm thinking...I've been indifferent. I forget. And somewhere tucked away inside this thing I call a heart, there is a piece that couldn't bear it if I were to ever show a snarling face towards my rescuer.

It is time to wake up.