silent

...useless compassion...is what I have sometimes.

For example, today I saw a guy that was limping in front of me.  And then I noticed a bloody back ankle, where his shoe was obviously rubbing it.  He had a backpack on, so I assumed he might have been walking for a long time.  When I saw this person, we were about a block from my apartment.  And the whole time I was debating whether I should offer some kind of adhesive bandage (or plaster or bandaid or curita...) so he could walk more comfortably.  And he kept walking in front of me in the same direction I was going.  We went past a gas (or petrol) station, and I tried to rationalize that if he wanted a bandage he would have bought one there.  But then I thought maybe he was short on money, maybe he was living off his backpack or something.  I kept thinking about this as I turned to my street without saying a word and he kept going straight.  See?  All this worrying I do...worthless...because I do nothing about it.  And it plagues me.  Like hours after that, and I am still thinking about it.  Sometimes I want to slap myself into action.