Asking too much of him made us unbearable
He would whine and I would try to be supportive but then I’d just get irritated
It was like passing one of the hundreds of beggars on skid row and dropping change in one of their cups
Watching the others stare at you coldly
You know what they’re thinking…what was special abut him that she gave him change, aren’t we all homeless?! Outraged you want to shout back He wasn’t Special! I just picked one. But I can’t say it without hurting him. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was so hard not to take pity. Now the beggars are staring and I am a common whore taking the walk of shame.