Watermarks You Got What You Deserved by Melanie Parker

"That's so sad," Kirbi whimpered. "I know," I agreed. "They look so pathetic and hungry." The woman's gentle voice began to explain how to adopt a child as the camera scanned the mass of starving children in some third world country. "For only thirty dollars a month, you can give one child the proper nutrition, education, and medical attention they so desperately need," the narrator said with great persuasion. "You know, it really makes me want to adopt one," Kirbi said. "Please help these parents provide food and shelter for their poor children," the narrator continued. "Wait a minute," I exclaimed, my feelings about the commercial quickly transforming. "They want us to help the parents pay to feed all fifty of their children! They brought the mess they are in upon themselves. They should have thought about the fact that they couldn't feed or clothe the first one before they had the second, the third, the fifteenth!" I changed the channel. "I never thought of it that way," Kirbi said matter-of-factly. "What they really need is birth control pills for all of the ovulating women, or better yet, a team of American doctors to go over there and 'fix' all the men," I exclaimed. "Goodness, Me!" Kirbi said while giggling. "At first you had tears in your eyes and all of a sudden you're merciless." "I guess so," I replied. I sat back as I flipped through the channels. I began noticing after that evening how I often have two very opposite views on the same issues. In many situations I am overcome with sympathy at first, and after careful thought, my mood becomes ruthless. I am extremely compassionate, but I can also be extremely vindictive.

Just as children in third world countries have been subjected to my split feelings of charity and harshness, my own family members often fall subject as well. My first cousin had a child when she was sixteen years old, and though I sometimes feel sorry for her, I often feel that it's her own fault and she should have thought about pregnancy before she began indulging herself. When my cousins are misbehaving and refuse to listen to the person in charge, it makes me cringe. When this misbehaving leads to one of them getting hurt, at first I feel sorry for him and immediately run to his aid. However, suddenly I remember why he was hurt in the first place. He was doing something he was specifically told not to do. My opinion then changes, and I feel the child got what he deserved.

One Saturday afternoon, I was babysitting two of my younger cousins. Their names are Shelly and Jason. Shelly had been bossing Jason around and snatching things he was playing with the entire night. I kept asking Shelly to share the toys, but she refused to listen to anything I said. "Give me that now!" Shelly screamed. I looked up from making their snacks to see Shelly pulling a toy truck out of Jason's hands. "Shelly, Jason was playing with that. Leave him alone right now!" I shouted from behind the counter. "No! Give me now!" She erupted again, and I could feel the fit coming. Suddenly, Jason let go of the truck and Shelly went flying across the living room. She fell down backwards and her head hit the rocking chair with a loud "crack." "Oh my Lord, are you okay?" I ran over to her as tears started streaming down her face. Her face was a bright shade of red, and she was screaming at the top of her lungs. I checked her head and there was only a small bump. "Oh, stop, crybaby. You're all right," I told Shelly while holding her in my lap. I looked over at Jason and winked. After I made sure she wasn't seriously injured, I laughed out loud. "What are you laughing at?" she mumbled. "You," I said. "Shelly, you got just what you deserved! told you to quit snatching toys." She immediately jumped up and ran to her room to pout. Once again, my compassion had fled when my vindictiveness reared its ugly head.

Even when I go to school and am away from my family, people often stir up my two opposites. There was a girl I went to high school with named Michelle who was constantly picked on. I always felt sorry for her and really pitied her. However, when I noticed how she treated our classmates, I no longer felt compassion for her. I completely understood why people bothered her. Just the same, throughout high school, and even now in college, friends and acquaintances who make bad grades and complain about them have bothered me. When a friend of mine gets a test back that he failed miserably and gets upset when he sees that I aced it, at first I feel sympathy for him, try to console him and assure him that he will do better next time. However, as always, when I think it through, my feelings change. Why does he complain so much? I went horne and studied for hours so that I would do well on this test, and I do all of my homework. I paid the price for this 'A.' He probably went out and partied and then actually expected to pass the test. He deserves that failing grade.

In my senior year, there was a guy named Paul who always complained to me about his failing grades. I always felt sorry for him and offered to let him come over to my house and study with me. He would never come because he always had other plans. One day, our teacher passed back an English test on a book we had been assigned to read two months earlier. He got his back and immediately sensed the anger. "A 'D'," he exclaimed. "I am going to fail this stupid class." He looked over at my paper that had a huge 'A' written on the upper right-hand corner. "How do you do it, Melanie?" he asked. "Easy. I study hard," I answered. I was tired of his griping. "Why don't you study, Paul? Did you even read the book?" I asked him in an exasperated tone. "I read the Cliff Notes," he answered. "I am just not smart like you." I turned around in my desk. I could not feel pity for him any longer. He had brought the failing grade upon himself. From that point on, I felt no more sympathy for him or anyone else who failed out of laziness. I only felt merciless.

Several of my closest friends who don't go to school with me have, similar to Paul and Michelle, experienced both my compassionate and vindictive sides. My best friend, Lisa, began dating a guy named James about a year ago, and ever since the first day of their relationship, she has been on an emotional roller coaster. James always lied to her about where he was going and what he was doing, and often acted as if he didn't care about her at all. There were many nights she'd cry on my shoulder, and even though I would sympathize with her, I always felt that she was asking for a broken heart by staying with him.

A friend of mine and Lisa's, named Mike, also fell victim to my opposite sides. He went out for a joyride after having left a party. He was drunk and after a collision with a tree, found himself in Memorial Hospital. Lisa and I immediately went to the hospital when we got the call, and I shook as I drove. Lisa asked while stifling a sob, "Do you think he's okay?" "I hope so, Lisa," I answered. We arrived at the hospital and went straight to his room after speaking to one of the nurses on duty. "Mike, are you okay?" I asked. "Yeah, just a little banged up," he replied. "Good, but what were you thinking?" I asked again, my mood shifting. He was okay, so I didn't feel guilty about not pitying him. "How could you drink and drive? You know better," I continued. "Mike you could have been killed!" "I know, know," he explained. "I knew you would be disappointed, Melanie," he continued. "I'm so sorry. I will never do anything like this again. As I walked out of the room, I realized my friend had just nearly died and didn't pity him any longer. All I could think about was the fact that I hoped he had learned his lesson. I didn't sympathize with him or his stupid actions.

Though these two characteristics are completely opposite, they are both equal in importance and combine to give me a balanced point of view in most situations. Without both of these qualities, I would either be utterly spiteful, or I would be a complete pushover. I began flipping the channels once again and stopped on a talk show with a young girl sitting on the stage. "My kids have to wear shoes with holes in them and can't afford new pants so have to patch the holes," she explained to Ricki Lake. I began to sympathize with her. It must be awfully embarrassing not to be able to provide for your own children. Then I learned that she didn't have a job and, eventually, that she didn't have one because she was simply too lazy to get one. I switched the television off and stormed up to my room, having lost all sympathy.

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