I am a Weak Man
I’m a weak man, not physically, though age and a sedentary lifestyle have begun to take their toll on my body as well. I am mentally weak.
There are people who see the world as a chessboard. They see others as objects to be surmounted. They see set their targets clearly and they hit them. They have a plan and nothing, and no one may interfere with their predation.
There are salesmen who can size up the amount of money in your pocket and figure out ways to have you hand it over.
I am not and have never been one of those people; In fact, when I see someone in need, I have a compulsion to sacrifice in order to satiate their needs and alleviate their suffering. I always carry extra fives to give to panhandlers, even though it is likely I may need the money myself someday soon.
I have never been good at confrontation. I will go out of my way to avoid it, even becoming teary-eyed after a conflict has been resolved. Looking back, I can think of several moments of shame that demonstrate this weakness.
In my younger days, I had many adventures, and I pursued a lifestyle that put me in constant danger. From hitchhiking solo around the country, hopping freight trains and living in abandoned buildings, I was on a quest to find my path, to find meaning…
