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Winston Churchill
Tonight on the train, I was riding home from my Psych of Creativity class. I was listening to Beethoven. A homeless man with a scarred and ruined face fell from his seat and began to bleed all over the floor. A Man and Woman picked him off the floor and placed him back in his seat and gave him tissues to stop the bleeding.
I didn't move from my seat when I saw him fall, when I saw the blood I didn't feel the urge to help him, when they placed him in his seat I didn't offer to assist them in carrying his weight. I sat calmly where I was and thought of no one but myself.
I guess, all those grand illusions one has of oneself need bursting sometime. I used to think I was the type of person who no matter how ugly a person was I would help them. But, when the time came I did nothing, said nothing, I attempted nothing. I watched as the other people on the train expressed concern and leant a hand while I sat comfortably in my seat and thought of how the blood would stain my favorite shoes.
I suppose one must eventually face the fight or flight scenario in reality. I guess I just thought I would have been a fighter.
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