RAWR!

Look outside yourself for the answer when you've lost your way inside.

The day was bright and sunny, a perfect contrast to the seething cauldron of anger thinly veiled by my flesh. I waited at the bus stop, having just missed the last metro in exchange for a quick trip to the gas station convenience store across the street to purchase a pack of smokes. Today was going to be the day that I was to quit as was every single day before. However, I woke up to find my will sapped and now found myself standing, fidgeting with my cell phone and wondering not why I was a day late and a dollar short but why people regiment them selves to their desires causing them to be so short of both. Some where in the gray of the thought I realized that this was what constituted 'living', the joy we indulged our flesh in was living.

Still, I fidgeted with my phone and wondered why the girls from the dating sites that I perpetually exercised my right thumb into a stiffly contoured and rigid lump of fleshly muscle on, hadn't written back. Even if they had, I wouldn't have it in me to respond for hours. I just had no stomach for it.

The bus arrived; I paid my fare and as was my custom gave a friendly , "Hello" to the driver. Lord only knows how much bullshit they had to put up with.

I took my seat and slipped quietly back inside the warm confines of my mind.
My own unanswered complaints against life and God slowly crept back in. The Motorcycle accident, which I had been ticketed for even though I was found not at fault, "I mean seriously...What kind of d********g writes a ticket to a guy pulled from the scene by an ambulance." The Roommate who swindled me out of a thousand bucks of my disability money, "Only a real piece of s**t, would steal money from a disabled person." My imagination suddenly takes a hold of me and I imagine my fist repeatedly pummeling the face of my offender, "Come on Bill, it's not worth the jail time." My mind changes the channel instantly and I see myself standing on a podium, finely dressed and whipping a crowd of my fellow handicapped brethren into a state of frenzy. Me and my army of wheelchair baring minions ready to bring this system to it's knees, "Yes that's the ticket!" Unlike my loyal compatriots, my injuries would eventually heal, the daydream vanishes.

The sharp release of air from the air brakes followed by the violent opening of the busses door release me onto the ugly streets of this towns industrial quarter. I would need to walk to my storage unit to retrieve a couple of things. Perusing the BMW's and finally crafted Jaguars parked along the street, I figured quickly the ratio of square footage per pack of cigarette comparatively to the square footage of one of these fine automobiles. Volume wise, if I were to take full packs and shape them into a replica of a car by mass, it would value roughly thirty thousand dollars!
Not a Jaguar but at the least a nice new Japanese import . As suddenly as the thought had been in my head it was gone. My mind unwilling at this point to imagine an existence without smoking, which had been more of a friend, more of a lover than any other manifestation of earthly company and like a lover would probably drive me to my death anyway, so why quite now?

I dug around in my storage unit and retrieved the things that were needed. Before shutting the door, I stole one more glance to see if the mass of stacked belongings would make a good painting. Even with the vibrant colors of my belongings I felt a surge of repulsion. What happened to me, I used to have such a good eye for this sort of thing.

Back onto the main boulevard through the tenement neighborhoods of the immigrant working poor, I crawled back into the relative safety of my own mind, ignoring the hard ugly looks of those I passed on the streets, the colorful persuasions of those dancing dressed like clowns, begging that passers by would visit their stores. I would get to the train, skip the fare, and ride downtown for free, justifying this small thievery by the means that an unjust universe had already taken so much from me.

The coffee shop was busier than usual and I didn't question why. The barista poured me my shots of expresso as I took some measurements for a small carpentry job that they had requested. I left without paying and was now on my way home.

Across the street lay the transit mall, the array of brightly colored busses from all the regions different bus lines came together collectively. I imagined each bus having it's own human attributes and intermingling at some grand oversized cocktail party or mixer, "Oh, you look fabulous this evening 193!" Just then the star of the show arrives, elegantly bound in forest green, the Torrance 3. I would ride that one and save myself the twenty-five cents on fare required by the Long Beach transit. I quickened my pace glancing briefly at a slender Latina holding a child imbued in love by her side. "Parenthood, what emptiness." I thought with downward repulsion.
I came upon the line to enter the bus and waited to take a position at the back, for even though I was injured it was not observable and people would not understand why a tall muscular male in seemingly good health insisted on boarding before the in-firmed. The group had disappeared into the inner sanctuary of Torrance 3 and only I and a small man unstable in his balance persisted.

I looked over to see that he was in fact struggling to keep himself upright and at the same time, keep his grasp on a cane and also procure the needed bus fare from his fanny pack. I focused in to see a slight man withered by the years, shabbily clothed and at the same time noticed what looked like an up side down credit card laying on the ground beside him. I looked back at him; he caught my eye and and both our gazes slipped to the ground. I took a step forward and wedged my figures between the card and the warm flat surface of the concrete, picked up the card and looked at it. The mans picture was on the front and I handed it to him. He had made a play for it him self, how ever the loss of control that he had had over his own body years ago stopped him short and I could tell he was nervous as I straightened up and came to tower over him. A brief pause as we sized one another up, then an un-steady, "Tha-thank you sure, Thank you si-sir." fell from lips attacked by palsy. I smiled and replied with a, "Your Welcome" that I was surprised by as it left my lips, for it had held a genuine warmth in it that I wasn't aware was there.

I waited for him to enter the bus and take a seat and as I passed him in the isle he once again greeted me with a thanks. I felt a warm smile creep onto my face, found a seat and sat.

Everything changed in the interaction for me. The man and his genuine great-fullness over something that I would do for anyone made me happy. Long after his youth and beauty had left him, long after the promise of a bright future had faded into the disappointment of an unrecognized long life full of hard work, this man found his body broken and living at the mercy of the streets and his genuine thankfulness awoke in me the truth that we all just want to be loved, to know that what we do matters to others. Not because we doing the kind deeds are some how good people or deserving of something better. But because deep inside of the people we offer a kind deed too are good people deserving of love and kindness.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar, I'm an ignoramus in said department. No comments on empathy, please review subjectively .

Reviews

[Symphonic_Sunflowers]

I like how you made me see everything! Youre really really good! I enjoyed reading it! :3

[Vivian]

Wow! That's a lot of detail and description

[MeathooksMcGee]

Yes Vivian but is it crap?

[Vivian]

Not at all. Have some more courage for your writing. It's well written.