Monday, February 11, 2013

Sad Beautiful

Monday 2/11/2013. North Berkeley BART station. Approximately 4PM.

I see him board the train. He is totally my type: blond, dressed all in black, skinny-as-a-rail, so blond that his eyebrows are yellow. My typical racy thoughts go racing; then the negative thoughts follow -- no way he would actually be noticing me... but still, something about him is archetypal. He has a familiar feeling. Good God, have I gotten so desperate for human affection that I have receded from realistic fantasy even in the daydreams of my wishful thinking?

I then realize the familiarity. My heart sinks and begins to ache. He is hurt. Lost and confused. Has he been crying? I think so. He is still sniffling a bit, and even has a bit of tears still flowing. He is trying to look like a tough goth-ish kid, but there is something so hurt behind those eyes. Is he mourning a loved one? A lost relationship? A pet?

Do I speak to him? Do I walk up to him and say... hey, I see you, you are God's child, and nothing can defeat you? What do I do? God, help him... he looks so sad.

And God help me: would I have noticed his pain if I had not had a lustful awareness of his physical existence first?

San Leandro station. 430PM. My departure point. Farewell, sad beautiful stranger. May God keep you in his loving arms. I see you.


  1. If one is to believe that G*d has a plan for everyone, then one must believe that most things, large and small, are a part of His plan.

    Therefore, it could be argued that G*d intended for you to lust.

    1. Patrick -- most certainly. What "bothered" me was not that I had lust (whoot whoot) but that I honestly was not sure if I'd've been as open to this young man's hurt if I had not first noticed him as an object.