You could see he had given up. He was giving up right infront of you. He was going to let the drugs take him over, he was going to go back just so he didn't have to deal with it all, hope that somehow it would all just dispear when he was inside and that it wouldn't greet him again when he finally left. There was no hope in his eyes. Him saying it aloud made it final. He had given in and had no hope left to muster up.

"Well let's go to my office and make some phone calls untill we come up with something"

And that one simple sentence brought it all rushing back. The compassion in people amazes me.

Every other day I want to quit. I want to say this is not my world. I have nothing to offer it. I should let it go and bring my talents to another venue.

But then a day like yesterday happens and i can't imagine me not there. Who the fuck are going to help these people? Why does a drug addict who hasn't been in jail deserve help and treatment more than someone who has been in jail? They don't. These people amaze me, how they get through a world that is against them, that are trying to pretend they don't exists, that are fucking terrirfied of them.

I can't see myself leaving this work, but I don't see how I can stay. I understand that at our age it's common not to know what you want to do, and that eventually you will. But I know what I want to do. I know but I can't grab it. I can't see how I can.

Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Maybe I should be taking a different path. How can I let professors and meetings steer me away from something I feel so strongly about.