I hate them. I hate them all even though I don’t know them. I’ve never talked to one, never really been interested in talking to one for that matter. I can’t even stand to look at one for a minute without pounding my weak fist against the wall. Call me deranged, call me cowardly, call me whatever you want. I may have lost my mind a long time ago.

I suppose that’s what tough times can do to you. Driven to starvation, desperation, and worse, crime, made me who I am. Made me hate those who drive BMWs or Lexuses without passing any of us like me more than a single glance. Made me hate those who strive to vomit and waste their extra food just to make sure no one sees the evidence of anorexia, while my family craves to have our stomach full every single day.

I know it’s wrong. How is it right? The bible says to love thy neighbor as thyself. I’m Catholic. I should know not to let my emotions run and let my logic rest. But then…. what difference does it make? In the end, I’ll always just have my feelings with me. Nothing I do will make anything better. They will always be happier. More powerful. More famous. More wealthy.

And I will be a simple person lost in the game of survival which ultimately, has no end. Well, it does, but the ending’s a long way from now. In the meantime, I will still have to focus on begging down 8th street once again. Maybe this time, I could stomach them passing by, pull my cap down, and carry on.