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I love people. I hate running.

I find excitement in figuring people out, or at the very least, getting to know them. I don’t specifically love every person, nor the human species in general, but I love people. We are so fascinating. Why the fuck are we so cruel to some people yet bow down to others?

On this run, I see people scoffing at a homeless woman. These same people are those who are following the routine and mindset put forth to them since their birth. Wake up, drink this coffee, wear this shirt, dress like that, be nice to these people, all the rest are scum. These preconceived notions are painfully concrete in some people’s brains. These are the people who don’t speak out on anything because the only things they disapprove of have already been dealt with by their fathers and the legacy of privilege they have been bestowed. Their life is a bubble of opportunity, and yet they have no desire to extend  a hand to those in different, more difficult situations than them. They care not of others, but those exactly like them. When an opportunity arises for them to give a dollar to someone in need or upgrade their Starbucks to a Venti, they will always choose the latter.

I see so many of these people every day.

I am afraid I am one of them. So goddamned afraid.

It is easy to observe others, but much harder to be aware of one’s own conscious thoughts and deliberate actions. When you joke around, are you offending an entire culture, gender, or identity? When you talk, are you talking to get your word heard, or to hear others? What is the point of your life? Do you acknowledge the point of others?