Broken people.
I see broken people everywhere and it makes me sad. In the street, at work, at play.

They can make themselves obvious with thier dramatics, the passive aggression, thier unwavering irrational arguments. Some not in such plain sight, defensive, avoiding eye contact, withdrawn and alone. Others slightly more dramatic with sudden bursts of vocal energy before catching themselves, self concious, retreating back to the comfort of thier own unique perception. Most are simply irritating or difficult in the interactions we must have with them.

They say who we are is the sum total of our experiences. I believe that but it makes me wonder, what experiences have led the dishevelled glassy-eyed man to be stuffing dozens of straws and tissues in his pocket at McDonalds? What series of events in a woman’s life has her convinced she can only be with men who treat her badly?

We all know them, the fact is we all are to varying degrees, broken people.
I just want them to be fixed.