Twenty-Four August, Two Thousand and Eleven

I saw a man running to meet his drug dealers (I'm assuming meth, considering the fact that he was literally running) /he ran past me and said hello, commented on how damned hot it was today all while keeping a brisk jog, I caught up with him in a parking lot and saw a different face. I saw a group of people and some sort of exchange all around a beat up old car.
I guess I'm making assumptions, but the gaunt look of the four people around the car and the hungry look in the man's eyes told me a story.

I always create stories for people. I create a background excusing and glorifying their present condition, an inner monologue thanking me for my compassion and a future changed by my kindness.
Selfish patronization is what it is.

I walked by three homeless men today, one asked for a dollar, I gave it to him, and I felt good. I felt like I was making a difference, I just recalled this, I had completely forgotten about that until just now.I guarantee that they forgot about it too, but they probably got a little bit of liquid comfort thanks to my spare paper. There I go again, creating a history, thanks, and a future. I place myself in such an important role in those peoples' lives whose eyes I make contact with.

I saw a girl sitting on the sidewalk at the bus stop today, she looked like me, but blonde and she was wearing the exact opposite of what I was wearing, all dark, in contrast with my light flowery outfit. I imagined that she would be good conversation, I sat on the ground next to her, then I got up and walked away to get some coffee, I suck at social situations involving women. I could have made a friend, but I just made myself seem insane and stand-offish. when I got back to the bus stop I sat on the wall behind her and said nothing. I never made eye contact, and saw hardly anything of her but the back of her head. I bet I seemed like a judgmental jerk, I bet I made her so uncomfortable. I bet I made no impact at all and I'm just self-centered and silly.