When I was young, I left Louisiana to study biology at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. It was my first time living away from home. That year, I spent long hours studying at the public library a few blocks away from the dormitory. This meant that I had to walk in the very dark streets of a city where I knew no more than thirty people total.

During that time I met a homeless man who taught me all about what it means to live on your own. He was the first person that made me feel welcome up there. He told me all about what places I just had to visit while I was there and he escorted me to my dorm whenever he saw me coming down the street late at night by myself. I was glad to be able to shoot him a few bucks whenever I had cash on me.

Judging from where I went to school and how I dressed, I’m sure he knew that I wasn’t exactly poor. If he had wanted to, on any given night he could have hit me over the head and robbed me of enough cash to keep him comfortable for a few months or so, at least. Yet, he NEVER did so.

Personally, I’d rather walk down the street with most of the homeless people I’ve encountered than to spend even a moment with shallow, pathetic people like Rachel and her friends.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/01/26/amnesia.victim.ap/index.html

I promise I’ll kick his ass good for you if he asks me for help.

Isn’t possible, just possible, that you’re wrong? Isn’t possible that it’s not everyone else who has the disorder, but you who are the freak? Your attempts to hide how pathetically sheltered and selfish you are has turned into a form of projection. Stop it.