"You don't care about human suffering. You care about it because it makes you sad, but you're not doing anything to help it."
"When I see it I try to..."
"Yah, because it makes you sad."
The way he refuted my words broke my heart.
Almost more than anything he'd done to me, that was what hurt the most.
Believing I didn't have a light inside.
So dead and careless like the rest of the world....
I could feel the tears well up in my eyes time and time again as we watched the new movie Fury.
I felt the frenzied blinking, holding back the dam as I imagined the trauma and dehumanization people in war face.
Never would I ever experience and understand fully what those in the military see and feel.
And I'm grateful for them.
Handing the man my bag of gas station chips when he asked for money to buy a meal didn't make me a saint.
In fact, I wish I would have had more time to buy him something from the fast food place by the gas station but I didn't have any cash and I was going to be late for school.
But I didn't hesitate.
It didn't just make me sad, it made me worried that he wouldn't have anything to eat if I didn't give it to him.
When the homeless man asked me for change to buy a bus ticket I gave him all the ones I had and asked him his name because he has one.
He fucking has a name and a past and a future.
He has a name.
Shaking my hand, gentle grip, that smile someone gets when they're treated with kindness for the first time in God knows how long.
I don't do these things so that I can sleep better at night and I don't try to alleviate my sadness of seeing someone suffer.
I try to alleviate it because it fucking breaks my heart to see someone hurting.
I don't want them to be cold, hungry, hurting, lost or alone.
You know why this whole thing mattered?
It mattered because someone once held me when I cried about being unable to help someone and he was touched.
He couldn't believe that I had a heart that never faltered for anyone.
Despite my own struggles and the terribleness of the world, I still believe in the beauty.
And he found me beautiful....
Then I could feel the selfish tears coming because he didn't see me as beautiful.
He doesn't see the warmth I try to give and suddenly I was ordinary.
Flip flopping between believing I deserved to have someone believe I was extraordinary and someone seeing me as simply human.
By why not both?
It matters that the person I love doesn't see it.
He doesn't see or believe that inside I try to purge any selfish, mean, shallow, or judgmental characteristic and try to be kind, warm, and empathetic.
He doesn't see me trying to be a truly beautiful person.
He sees me as average.
I hate to admit how much that fact keeps me up at night.