Kamikaze, eh?

We were on Facetime and I was telling him about some of the volunteer work I do, I was talking about how some of the folks who come in are court-ordered, and they're all mad about it and bitching that it's a bunch of bullshit and they got played, and blah blah blah and I ask them if they'd rather grab a broom and sweep the 101 or, you know, you can always tell the judge fuck off I'd rather be in jail -- right?

I talked about how the "probationers" might not be addicts but they probably have other stuff going on. Legal problems, living in rough neighborhoods, just living the life... and how I was sitting there with a couple of them just kicking it and talking about life. We were cutting up small pieces of paper for a staff training exercise and they were actually enjoying what they were doing so much that I pretended that I didn't know that there was a paper slicer that could have cut all of this paper in about two minutes flat.

I guess after I told him a couple stories about what I was up to lately, he was finally comfortable enough to tell me that he was extremely suicidal the night that I'd met him and that I looked "scary" and that he was just hoping I'd come over and kill him.

"But no, you were really sweet and smart and cool and-"

I just stared at my phone in disbelief.

I guess... that says a lot... about your needs versus my needs...


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