Just another crappy, self-righteous, arrogant blog

It had been a custom of mine to donate money to the local food-bank (that is, a place where people who can not afford food can go in order to get food so that they do not starve to death) every time I grocery shopped. It was always done so without telling anyone, minus the cashier, as I feel that anonymous charity is the greatest form of charity. I say it had been a custom of mine because I’ve recently stopped.

A few months ago my girlfriend’s roommate and best friend decided to spend the rest of her government cheque not on groceries but on alcohol instead because she wanted to have a “good time.” If you thought that her spending taxpayer dollars on alcohol is as bad as you can get you might not want to read on. When she inevitably ran out of groceries to eat, as everyone does, she took a trip to the local food bank to do her grocery shopping. The food bank. The place where poor people go so they don’t starve to death. The place that constantly pleads with the public for more donations because they already don’t have enough food to supply the people that need it. She decided to take food from this place which, literally, took food out of the mouths of people that actually need the food bank. All because she wanted the sweet, sweet, taste of alcohol. All because she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.

I still haven’t gotten over my anger from that event. That anger, the anger that has sat in the bottom of my heart, has been multiplied more than I can put numbers to. 

A hippie who I shall call Krystal often comes to the apartment to hang out. She’s the type to put her feet on the kitchen table because she feels like it. The type to go into the fridge and eat whatever she likes because she feels that humans shouldn’t keep such an essential item to themselves. The type to not shower, literally ever, because she feels it’s unnatural and enjoys the smell of her filthy body despite offending the noses of everyone in the room she occupies. She takes the aforementioned girl who we’ll call Ellen to an arts centre which gives out free meals. The reason this centre gives out free meals is because it’s an arts centre for homeless youth. You’ve read correctly. They go and hang out at a centre for homeless youth and eat the food meant for people who can’t afford to buy a meal. Krystal and Ellen live in apartments and, if they weren’t so God damned greedy, would have ample money for groceries (money which is provided by the taxpayer, mind you.)

Today my anger has turned into crushing depression because, I know, this sort of thing happens all the time. There will always be people so greedy and interested in their own gratification that they’ll steal food from the mouths of those who can’t afford it. There will always be people stealing money from a government programme that was set up to help people in their darkest hours. There will always be people who will use that money for their own selfish gratification with no thought as to whom they are harming in the process. There will always be people who are dumb enough to believe that showering is a form of blind conformation.

And so I have given up.

I have given up caring about trying to make the world a better place for the downtrodden. I have given up giving money to charity. I have given up getting angry at the people that abuse charities and social programmes. For it doesn’t matter how many hours I put in at a soup kitchen or how many dollars I sign over to a food bank or how many people I snap at for being selfish assholes because there will always be those selfish assholes destroying any good anyone tries to do.

And so I have given up.

Congratulations, selfishness, you’ve managed to destroy yet another good person, managed to turn someone else into a hollow shell. 

So it goes.