Nothing. Looking out from this hill, I saw nothing. I used to see a whole world of wonders, but none of it meant anything anymore.

That was why I was leaving. Maybe it was so that if I ever came back, I would be grateful again, see the world I grew up with. Or maybe it was just so I could find a new world.

So I turned and started walking. I had no idea where I was going. Anywhere but here. Here I had seen more miserable days here than happy. It wasn't a happy childhood and part of adulthood.

I walked for days. Still, I didn't see what I wanted. I didn't see the happy people when I walked through villages. I saw the beggars, the stray dogs, the lepers. I no longer saw the happiness in the world. Only the misery and pain. And it was unbearable.

I went to the land of opportunities, America, looking for happiness. I walked the streets, looking for peoples' happiness, joys. However I saw only their problems. I looked a beautiful, happy young business woman, but I saw that she had a pain in her foot. I lost her happiness the moment I saw it.

I rode the subways of New York. I saw a group of girls, all not wanting to touch the dirty poles. I saw a man scowling at each stop and start when the train lurched forward. I walked into the churches of Richmond. Men and women, asking for forgiveness. Funerals, confessions, asking for help in their problems. I didn't see the happiness when they came out, only worry and doubt.

The world was now empty to me. I didn't see what made it so special. I didn't see what was worth saving, holding onto, living for. I suppose I was near suicide at that point. I tried several times. I put a knife to my own throat, but I couldn't do it. I was too cowardly.

I still wanted to find something, anything. I thought for hours. I searched for a happy memory. I sat in the cafés, outside stores, theatres, looking for happiness in anybody's eyes. I thought of the woman with the foot pain. I had almost caught it.

I was missing it the entire time. I didn't see it. When I thought I had it, it would slip through my fingers. It was like trying to hold water. It wouldn't stay in one place long enough to see. It was one of those things you think you may have seen, but you weren't quite sure.

I realized that I was trying too hard. I didn't know how to find it, though. I was half-way between sleep and awake, when I thought of it. But I lost it.

One day, I was walking through the streets of New York, and I saw an old beggar. I stopped to give him my sandwich. I wasn't hungry, and didn't want to throw it out. That's when I found it. There was gratitude, the happiness that I had searched for so long, and most of all, hope. Hope that things might start looking up for him, starting with that tuna sandwich.