Friday, December 17, 2004

what is wrong with me?

Today when I was walking to work some ugly homeless woman opened her mouth, not to ask me for money, but to call me a bitch. But the best part was that she said it in this robotic ass voice that sounded like she was shreiking through a trachectomy or whatever.

I thought about kicking her in the teeth for a minute, Patrick Bateman style.

Oh my god, what is wrong with me.

When I was little my parents took me to the veterens hospital to visit my grandfather. There were old men shuffling around in bathrobes and worn slippers, or sitting in wheel chairs, slack jawed. My mom was carrying me and one of the men reached for me and cried out. I was terrified and I burst into tears.

Maybe I reminded him of his daughter. Maybe he wanted to say "What a beautiful little girl!" but his brain was so ravaged by disease he had lost the ability to vocalise his thoughts without sounding like a monster that scares children.

When I think about it now it breaks my heart.

So how come when I walked past this homeless woman I felt nothing but superiority over her? Has my heart shriveled up and died?

Listed on BlogShares