A few weeks ago, I heard from an old friend of mine back home who expressed his concern over a little boy.

A grown man now really, but to me, he will always be little.

From what I understand, this boy is showing dangerous signs of pride that may very well lead him to self-destruction.

He feels entitled to a raise and a promotion for what has barely been a year in his company.

I remember this side of him well enough.

He was an extremely sensitive child who, having grown up in unfortunate circumstances, developed a tendency to play the victim.

Despite possessing every quality to surpass the difficulties of his childhood, he stubbornly clung to the past that was “stolen” from him.

As he grew, so did his bitterness and resentment.

And when he felt that he no longer needed anybody in the world (having deluded himself into thinking that the very people who raised him were the same ones who “destroyed” his life), he burned the final bridge.

I suppose he must be doing well for himself these days.

I only ever hear from him when the opposite is true.

He is quick to make demands when he needs it but even quicker to forget the favor.

In his sad little mind, you are simply giving him what he deserves.

A self-entitled boy like him is incapable of understanding gratitude and appreciating selflessness.

Two weeks ago, I finally completed my probationary period in the advertising agency I work for.

I am grateful for the opportunity to work with a talented and hardworking team.

There are some who have dedicated 7, 9 and even 10 years of service.

There are – or should I say were – some who have shown anything between a lack of dedication and a disgusting degree of ingratitude.

In the course of 6 months, my admiration for humility has grown tremendously.

It was not always so.

In school, or at least in the school I went to, with a student population of over 2,000, making “noise” seemed like the only way to succeed.

Even getting good grades was not enough.

Simply making it to the Honors Roll did not guarantee recognition, not when everybody else made it.

At the end of four years, I graduated like everyone else, donned a medal like everyone else and dissolved into a faceless nobody of High School Batch 2010.

And then, off to college which was surprisingly much easier to gain recognition.

Aim for 100, get a 95, and you’ll still end up turning heads on stage at the Dean’s List Awarding Ceremony.

I could finally let my guard down every once in a while and still be That Girl on That List.

It was around the same time that I befriended a girl who was far more brilliant than the rest of the class.

At the end of every semester, I’d find out she got far lower marks than she deserved.

A lack of oral participation was almost always the culprit.

Which was frustrating because I knew she read more than I did before coming to class (I just had an apt for guessing which questions would come out).

Sometimes when the teacher was fed up with me raising my hand over and over again, I’d volunteer for this girl.

She always got the answers right.

She just wouldn’t speak up.

Back then, I had a mental image of her being swallowed whole in the “real world” after graduation.

I didn’t think she had enough survival skills in a world where people make much ado about nothing and rise up to become C-level executives, famous celebrities, even the president of the United States.

But not only did this girl survive, she even thrived.

Which brings me back to my first point, the only point I’m trying to make in all these schoolgirl anecdotes.

Pride really is one of the ugliest things in this world.

It is like a stray brushstroke in what is otherwise a masterpiece.

It can make fools out of geniuses.

It even brought death into paradise.

By contrast, humility, though it does not merit instant recognition, is far more lasting and more worthy of admiration.

These last few months, I’ve come across people who fall under the opposite extremes.

I’m not in the position to judge or scold or even praise them; I merely observe them and take a good honest look at myself in turn.

In my everyday dealings with people, in my choice of words and actions, am I putting on false airs?

I must admit that sometimes, I make it an effort to talk down on myself.

To reject praises and compliments which I, to a certain degree, deserve.

I suppose that is what others may call false humility.

For most of my life, I had striven for recognition, misled into thinking that that was the only way.

I’m still in the process of unlearning it.

We can’t all be Alexanders, Peters and Catherines and have “The Great” attached posthumously to our names.

Most of us won’t even go down in history to be remembered for generations to come.

One thing I’d learned as a student of literature is that many kings, heroes, and even gods met their demise because of hamartia.

A fatal flaw unique to each one of them, yet somehow almost always linked to their ego, their pride.

As for that little boy who is on the verge of self-destruction, I can only hope that he finds redemption within himself.