Zacchaeus was a wee little man a wee little man was he.
The story of a long dead man, something about hiding from God in sycamore trees. Something about being evasive.
I saw a video on YouTube about a homeless guy that got his face blown off by a shotgun, point blank range. I find myself returning to the image of this guy, oddly enough he kept a very positive disposition.
He also said he hasn’t looked in a mirror in two solid years.
If you find yourself in a situation where life has blown your f****** face off with a shotgun, what kind of person do you become?
I would imagine isolated.
“I’m done with people, I’m done interacting with them, I will never be close to another one of them ever again. Now it is only me and the earth and time.”
That story, is a story of true resilience. Homeless, living on sidewalks and charity, face blown off by a goddamn shotgun,
Still alive.
I wish I could find that guy, give him whatever I could, what do you even give someone in that situation? Drugs? Maybe just a hug. Maybe conversation.
Feel ya dude. My problems don’t even compare and I’m so sorry that I ever bitched about any aspect of my waking Life.
I think of that guy’s face when I think of victims, things that are out of one’s control. Everybody got that s***, his is simply the most visible.
dawn 