Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Back when I was in community college, my father persuaded me to take night courses about (I believe) counseling in hopes that I'd follow in his footsteps (thankfully, that hasn't come to pass).

This was back in the 'taking the bus' days, so I walked up the street to wait by the bus stop in front of the library. Near that stop was a van that routinely provided meals for the homeless. I don't know if the people running the van knew, cared, or could tell that I wasn't homeless, but I managed to score a free meal 'most every time.

Maybe, they made more than enough food to meet demand, but, only recently (while visiting that same library) did I feel some remorse about what I did. Was I stealing a meal from someone who needed it far more? Most likely. This, in a nutshell, is my life: trying to be a good person and yet doing things that seem harmless on the surface, but can be downright hurtful in the long run.



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