I've never told this story to anyone, and it's been roughly three years since it happened. After I graduated high school I ended up moving across the country for school (quite literally). To make a long story short, I decided a month in that I wasn't actually sure what I wanted to do with my life. I had built up a vision of exactly what and who I was to be only for it to simply...not be. I was emotionally drained, and I felt awful having to call home and explain that I was coming back. After a few awkward days and chats with my roommates, it was settled: I unenrolled, packed up all my belongings, and caught a train heading back home. Let me tell you, dragging your belongings across a city is no easy task. Anyways, we had an unexpected layaway in Chicago and I was still very out of it. I dragged my bags to my hotel room, and that night I walked around aimlessly with nothing but my thoughts, and some music to keep me company. In retrospect this was a poor decision seeing as it was nighttime in a large city. But the next day, hours before my next train was set to arrive, I came across a homeless man. I asked him if he was hungry, and next thing I know we're standing in line at a McDonald's; I bought him lunch, and I wished him luck with life. I wasn't changing his life, but connecting with someone was something I just...needed. For the next hour or two before I departed, I bought lunch for every homeless person I came across. Some were really grateful, old, young, and a few were definitely pretty eccentric. But you know what? It felt fucking great, and I don't regret a thing. Some were so thankful just to be spoken to like an equal, and I was thankful to them for giving me company (even if I wasn't much of a talker).
I'm not claiming to be a good person, or deserving of praise. But what I do know is that at the end of the day, we're all pretty lost in our own ways and that's okay. It just means you can feel, and that ultimately means you're human. It's okay to be lost. In a way it's almost beautiful; it's a part of the process of discovering who we are. No matter what, there's always a place out there to go home to: a friend, a familiar street, or even complete strangers. It's the journey that defines us, not the endgoal.