I went outside into the bright sunny day. It was still two thirty. Too early to go home. A cake would be nice. I bought a slice of chocolate mud cake from Mitchel’s. A girl was giving away bottled tea near the station so I took one. I found a seat at the courtyard of St. Andrews cathedral and munched slowly. The cake was really, really sweet. It made me crave for something savoury. My eyes caught KFC across the street. Nooo… Bad food… I wasn’t even hungry. But then again, what the heck. It’s not like I have better things to do.
I went to KFC. The Indian girl who served me was very rude. I was quite annoyed. I finished my food and left as much garbage as I could as a tribute to the Gringe behind the counter. My ME Day had turned out to be rather disappointing.
As I left I suddenly remember that I had to buy some cartons for my lesson plan at the childcare center the next day. I headed for Dymocks. There were some homeless people in the streets. One was selling magazines, another was sitting across the street on a wooden crate. A piece of paper was stuck on a board in front of her, explaining who she was and what had happened to her. Another was a haggard looking bearded guy who was sitting with his back against the wall of a mega shop. I know it would be freezing at night so I felt sorry for those guys. I hoped they had a good place to shelter from the cold.
A man in a suit passed by and gave the old lady a five dollar note. Good on you, mate.
On my way home from Dymocks I passed those homeless folks again. I felt bad because just like the millions of people rushing around me, I didn’t help. I took some money from my coin purse. I know that if I bought a magazine from that guy, half would go to his pocket as his share of the sale. It wasn’t much, but at least I’m trying.
I smiled as I approached him. I took a magazine and was about to pay.
These AREN’T FREE, you know?! He snarled.
I gasped and showed him the money. He was so embarrassed. So was I. People were staring at us. He quickly apologized and gave me a lengthy explanation about his back. He had arthritis and only had two hours of sleep the night before. I assured him it was alright, paid him, and wished his back would get better. I walked away quickly and didn’t turn back. Even when I heard him cursing himself IDIOT! loudly.
NOW I’ve really had enough. I was desperate to come home. Before I reached the ticket gate at Town Hall I burst into tears. I retreated into a quiet corner and faced the wall and cried like an idiot. I stopped long enough to go through the gate and find my platform and sobbed again. I buried my face in tissue so people couldn’t see. Not that anybody cared. Only one middle aged guy looked long enough to show that he noticed I was upset. But that wasn't important. What's important is that I could finally cry. The anger, sadness, anxiety, fear, and helplessness that had been poisoning my system for days were slowly melted and were flushed away by the tears.
I cried a little bit more on the train, then felt calm and at peace with the world and with my health condition.
I never read that magazine. I put it in the Dymocks’ plastic bag and never took it out. Today it is still somewhere in the magazine stack.
I went to KFC. The Indian girl who served me was very rude. I was quite annoyed. I finished my food and left as much garbage as I could as a tribute to the Gringe behind the counter. My ME Day had turned out to be rather disappointing.
As I left I suddenly remember that I had to buy some cartons for my lesson plan at the childcare center the next day. I headed for Dymocks. There were some homeless people in the streets. One was selling magazines, another was sitting across the street on a wooden crate. A piece of paper was stuck on a board in front of her, explaining who she was and what had happened to her. Another was a haggard looking bearded guy who was sitting with his back against the wall of a mega shop. I know it would be freezing at night so I felt sorry for those guys. I hoped they had a good place to shelter from the cold.
A man in a suit passed by and gave the old lady a five dollar note. Good on you, mate.
On my way home from Dymocks I passed those homeless folks again. I felt bad because just like the millions of people rushing around me, I didn’t help. I took some money from my coin purse. I know that if I bought a magazine from that guy, half would go to his pocket as his share of the sale. It wasn’t much, but at least I’m trying.
I smiled as I approached him. I took a magazine and was about to pay.
These AREN’T FREE, you know?! He snarled.
I gasped and showed him the money. He was so embarrassed. So was I. People were staring at us. He quickly apologized and gave me a lengthy explanation about his back. He had arthritis and only had two hours of sleep the night before. I assured him it was alright, paid him, and wished his back would get better. I walked away quickly and didn’t turn back. Even when I heard him cursing himself IDIOT! loudly.
NOW I’ve really had enough. I was desperate to come home. Before I reached the ticket gate at Town Hall I burst into tears. I retreated into a quiet corner and faced the wall and cried like an idiot. I stopped long enough to go through the gate and find my platform and sobbed again. I buried my face in tissue so people couldn’t see. Not that anybody cared. Only one middle aged guy looked long enough to show that he noticed I was upset. But that wasn't important. What's important is that I could finally cry. The anger, sadness, anxiety, fear, and helplessness that had been poisoning my system for days were slowly melted and were flushed away by the tears.
I cried a little bit more on the train, then felt calm and at peace with the world and with my health condition.
I never read that magazine. I put it in the Dymocks’ plastic bag and never took it out. Today it is still somewhere in the magazine stack.
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