Bird Watching
I do not know why, but, I tend to travel a lot. Maybe it is just my nature, or maybe it is because I can never bear the people in the area where I travel to. They disgust me to the pit of my stomach, every single person there. Whenever I am around an area, there is always someone who comes out from the shadows and scares me away. I hear them talking also. Most of them shoo me away while calling me a filthy creature. I am guessing that they call me filthy because I have no home, and I defecate in the streets. Can you blame me? The entire street looks like a damn outhouse. What I see, I will do. So, clean up your bloody streets before you go calling me names.
I promised myself this would not happen. I hate when my anger gets the better of me. It turns me into something ugly. Why am I always angry? I do not know why. Is the fact that I do not have a job be a possibility for my anger? If I did have a job, would I be a different? Would I become like my cousin Jeráld? My cousin Jeráld is an international courier. He is French born; so, I do not usually see him as an important figure. He works for some non-cooperative idiots only satisfied with attaining more. Their greed consumes them to the point where they are blinded by it. They say they have justification for whatever they do, but I know it is utter rubbish, and they know it too. If I was in Jeráld’s position, I would find a way to change each message that goes back and forth. I would change it to something that benefits all people and creatures, not just the people sending the messages. If the message was encoded, it will probably look like my handwriting anyway, so, that would not be a problem. Whatever I would do, that does not matter. Jeráld is content with what he does. I am not sure that he likes the job, so he must do it for the security. I have heard someone say, “You never kill the messenger.” That is a little joke that I have with whenever we have a chance to meet. On a serious note, the statement has some truth. As long as he does his job, he gets to eat. Whatever family he has will also be able to eat. He feels secure.
I do not believe the fact that I am jobless is what makes me so angry. I choose not to work, especially not for dirty, nasty, and unintelligent people. Sometimes, I just look down upon them and wonder: Do people ever think before they act? They have the audacity to call me filthy! Have those people ever looked at their own reflections? All the things they do, they want to call me filthy. For example, just the other day, a lady who usually helps feed others like me in the street was murdered. In broad daylight, in the center of the street, while she was feeding us; a man emerged from nowhere and stabbed her. She laid there and bled to death. The others and I fled from scene because, not only were we witnesses, but the man was probably going to come after us next. So, what of the people who could do something? What was the reason they did not do anything? Is it because the woman was insignificant to them? She was significant to me, to us, but I guess that does not matter. They let the man get away with murder; and I am expected to work for people like this?
It seems that is exactly what vexes me the most; all of the bystanders. They are everywhere, and they all unite with not doing a damn thing. If they all unite for a real purpose, several things will change. However, they just go by acting like everything is alright. As long as it does not involve them, there is nothing they need to do. During my travels, I ended in an alley somewhere. On the floor laid a man who was apparently dead. He looked like he had been dead for some time; at least one week. All the blood in his body was already out. He must have bled from the top of his head because that is where it is apparent of an attack. Surrounding his body were some blacks; big-lipped, dark as nighttime, and ugly to the bone. All of them were gathered around the body just looking at it. I am not sure if they had anything to do with the death; however, they were poking the body just for fun. Those disgusting vultures; I immediately left because there was nothing else I could do.
My travels even took me to a river up northward. In the beginning, it was very nice. I joined a group of whites as they fished and admired the river. Suddenly, on the other side of the river bank, we see a man put a bundle of rocks into another man’s pockets, and then he throws him into the river. I was shocked, and not just at the act. Each individual in the entire group is a better swimmer than I am, they could have swam over there and save the man. Instead, they just squawked about talking to each other, and then they went back to their business as if nothing happened. They know the area more than I do; yet, none of them even attempted to go tell the man who was a captain. It is like it did not faze them. It did not directly affect them, so why should they worry, right? This got me very angry; so, I promptly left.
In all my travels, I end up getting angry all of the time. Now that I have finally evaluated all my thoughts, it seems I have found the problem. Maybe the reason I get angry at all time is because I am avoiding what I am truly troubled with. It seems I am angry at myself for being what I hate. I am an advocate for righteousness, but what have I done lately? I do not change messages to end greed, I ran away from the lady who fed me, I did not stop the blacks in the alley, and I could not help the man in the river. I am weak, and I am too weak to change that. Oh my, this so frustrating to think of. I should travel somewhere else where I will not have this much trouble. I am going to travel south. I heard that it is nicer there during this time of the year. Hopefully, I can do more there than I can here.
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