A few weeks ago I was deeply moved by the realisation that there were so many homeless people in China Town. Every time I saw them I felt a pang of guilt, remorse even, that they were living their lives this way. It sadened me to a point that when I talked about it I felt an obligation to help. But alot of peoples attitudes were the same 'They choose to live that way so dont worry about it.' and that has been extreamly offputting.
Over time I have learnt to walk on by without thinking about where they will sleep tonight or if they will have enough to eat. Instead I glance over and think 'I wonder where they got that pen to write that sign' why my attitude has changed I dont know.
The young homeless guy that resides around the corner from my building has emerged again. He looks so tired and yesterday I know he spotted me from across the street sitting on the sidewalk, petting his dog. I dont think I would be able to live with myself If I didnt try and help him at some point but the question still remains; 'What if I did and he then relyed on it? What will happen to him if I left?' and a small part of me wonders if he will attack me.....why would I become a monster? Why would I loose compassion? Will I eventually be the one saying they choose that life?
Home this weekend. Normal cups of tea, vegetables and an oven. Loads of laundry and my CD collection. I feel like I have been away forever instead of a few weeks.