Telling Himself a Story
A few days ago I was taking the trash out to the dumpster at work. I threw it in, closed the lid, and started heading back inside.
Before I made it to the door, a bum stepped in my way and revved up his cash-generating sad story. He told me that he just moved to Fredericksburg and that life hit him one. His boss was arrested for drug abuse. His car was stolen. He didn't even mention if he had shelter. He was fifteen dollars short of a bus ticket back home.
The fist thing that struck me about this homeless man was how cleanly-shaven he was. He had a sweet mustache, so it's not like he couldn't grow facial hair. He was quite well dressed, too. No, he wasn't sporting an Abercrombie hoodie, but the clothes he had on were strikingly clean.
But the one thing that stood out the most was how he told his story. He was telling his story to himself. He would often roll his eyes and throw his head back. His story was not a plea for my help. It was an attempt to convince himself that he really was homeless, car-less, jobless, and cashless.
I really did feel bad for him. I had a five dollar bill in my pocket, but I wasn't going to feed the flames. I offered him a prayer, and he declined. I still prayed for him as I walked away.
I felt really cynical assuming immediately that his story was a lie. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realize it doesn't make sense. His appearance, his mannerisms, and, most of all, the way that he told his story. It looked like he was trying to convince himself. I just happened to be standing there.
“A lie told often enough becomes truth” - Vladimir Lenin. Yes, I did just quote a commie. Those guys were smart cookies, but they used their knowledge for evil. Getting back on topic, people can tell a lie so much that they begin to concentrate on how it sounds coming out of their mouth. That is when a person stops telling you the story and starts telling it to themselves.
Before I made it to the door, a bum stepped in my way and revved up his cash-generating sad story. He told me that he just moved to Fredericksburg and that life hit him one. His boss was arrested for drug abuse. His car was stolen. He didn't even mention if he had shelter. He was fifteen dollars short of a bus ticket back home.
The fist thing that struck me about this homeless man was how cleanly-shaven he was. He had a sweet mustache, so it's not like he couldn't grow facial hair. He was quite well dressed, too. No, he wasn't sporting an Abercrombie hoodie, but the clothes he had on were strikingly clean.
But the one thing that stood out the most was how he told his story. He was telling his story to himself. He would often roll his eyes and throw his head back. His story was not a plea for my help. It was an attempt to convince himself that he really was homeless, car-less, jobless, and cashless.
I really did feel bad for him. I had a five dollar bill in my pocket, but I wasn't going to feed the flames. I offered him a prayer, and he declined. I still prayed for him as I walked away.
I felt really cynical assuming immediately that his story was a lie. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realize it doesn't make sense. His appearance, his mannerisms, and, most of all, the way that he told his story. It looked like he was trying to convince himself. I just happened to be standing there.
“A lie told often enough becomes truth” - Vladimir Lenin. Yes, I did just quote a commie. Those guys were smart cookies, but they used their knowledge for evil. Getting back on topic, people can tell a lie so much that they begin to concentrate on how it sounds coming out of their mouth. That is when a person stops telling you the story and starts telling it to themselves.










Guys and girls. Love and hormones. Pride and emotion. What can I say that hasn't already been said? No, I'm not going to attempt anything epic and deep. I'm just going to say whats on my mind now.