Boarding SkyTrain in Vancouver, we saw this man. He was restlessly seated, his head leaning on a backpack pressed against the window.
I reached out to ask him if he was OK but as he began talking my first thought was this guy is too far gone to even communicate with.
I learned the lesson that you can't "judge a book by its cover".
This man, while addicted and perhaps not the most intellectual of people, was further cursed with a speech impediment which has dogged him his entire life.
Beyond the veneer of his "cover" was perhaps the most gentle, self aware guy I have ever encountered.
He's living in a shelter that kicks people out each morning until they may return in the evening; he's been on a waitlist to get into rehab treatment for months and whose only goal in life is, as he puts it, is "to wake up happy every morning".
That statement by him unleased his emotion and surprisingly he reached out to hug me.
I only "soft pitched" him just saying that I would love to make him feel like he was the most important person on earth because he is.
I told him that in any case, I'd advocate for him to get in to a residential rehab, no strings attached.
He responded "you would do that for me?" Of course I would.
Exactly how Daddy Drake breeds and wrecks Robbie.
Raw. Aggressive. Addictive.
Drop a ๐ฅ if this is your fantasy
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