text: I am the person you pass on the street without noticing, the person you cross the road to avoid. I am the one you turn your head away from in disgust, as though just looking at me tarnishes your good name. Oh, don't act like you don't understand. Don't deny it, don't you dare. You see, to you I might be another piece of trash lying at the side of the road, but to me; to me you are everything. Think. Think back to the last time we spoke. Do you remember? I was once like you, a long time ago. I, too, had a job and a family, and friends and a dog that yelped excitedly every night when I came home. Can you see it now? Does my face look familiar? You don't even stop to look me in the eyes as you drop a penny or two into my outstretched hands. No wonder you don't recognise me. You move on quickly lest I begin to pester you for more change; lest I inquire why a man such as you leaves me only a few pennies when you could obviously spare much more. I, too, once wore a suit just like yours. I know how the silk feels against skin, and how the polished leather shoes enhance the illusion. Now my shoes are torn and tattered, dirty and battered. And you know what? That doesn't make me any less of a person. So why won't you look at me? Tell me, please. Why won't you recognise me? Do you still have the picture we took, the one where we're fishing? You caught so many fish and I caught nothing, only a dirty old boot that you threw back into the water. As an act of kindness you shared yours with me; I had been grateful because we hadn't brought anything else to eat. Life gave you fish, and me it gave a dirty old boot. Unlucky, I guess. Now the only fishing I do is in old trashcans. I live with the night, and go where it takes me. Everyday is a new day - a day with a start, middle and end. The days dont flow into each other anymore, that is one thing I am thankful for. You're still stuck in your endless cycles. Wake up, go to work, come home at night, go to sleep. Repeat. Over and over, day in and day out. Now, I don't understand you. How can you stand it, the monotony, the boredom? As children life was exciting and fun. Somehow the innocence mutated, became something else, something so much worse. So. I don't envy you. Can you understand that? I rage, but I don't envy you at all.