To the homeless person who was screaming frantically at their demons last night…
I am sorry for turning away and idly standing by as others gawked. You are dangerously close to the truth and we are too cowardly to bear it.
I ducked inside a nice restaurant where I was served a meal and partook in “civilized” conversation. Up went the fancifully embroidered veil that hides me from the terror of annihilation: Is the kitchen too loud for me? Would this lovely meat pastry taste even better with ground pepper?
And here I sit, writing comfortably at my desk and imagining that I would open my door to you. The truth is that I would not. I am worse than the gawkers for believing that my awareness means anything. The moment I set the pen down my mind will busy itself with inanities while resting in its cozy bed of privilege.