i gave my last pound to a homeless man today. he was cold, it's winter. he was shivering, covered in tatty rags and torn jackets. he had a dog next to him, lying next to him like a guardian angel. a black lab. the cutest thing i've ever seen, i'm sure. gosh, he was a precious thing. he looked so hungry, too. i just wanted to feed him some roast
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Around this time of year I get really sensitive to these things because they're a lot unlike me. I always want to help the homeless people I see wandering the streets. But it really is hard, especially in my town, which isn't as safe as others. I think that's one of the main reasons why a lot of people can't be like you, sitting down and sharing soup with someone sitting on the streets. There's a lot of dangerous stuff out there. I see people walking around holding up signs asking for money and it always crosses my mind that they just want money and they're not even poor. If only it wasn't so hard.
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I always try not to make assumptions about the homeless too, but we all do it. Sometimes it just can't be helped, but sometimes it's good to be proved wrong from your assumptions as well.
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