to know somebody

I usually keep to myself a lot and it’s within good reason most of the time.

Part of the Dangerous thing about getting to know someone, is actually knowing them. My luck of people in my life I regret ever knowing is pretty high. Everyone from the stalker types, to the assholes, drunks, psychopaths. Like is any wonder I’m an introvert.|

Either they want to use you for favors or just hang around on a constant. Given many experience I can’t say I’m really all that comfortable around people in general, but the biggest step in anything is knowing who someone is. They become part of that Rolodex in your mind. Who knows if you’ll ever see them again? Under what circumstances? The old Asian lady, I can’t remember if I mentioned her before, but upon knowing her it’s been a delight. She probably has more than a couple of amazing stories. At first knowledge of her, from being a young guy to an old person, I shrugged her off as just an eccentric old cook. They usually are eccentric old cooks. But it turns out, she’s just not a boring old giddy. She acts like she’s got a lot of youth in her, and I think that’s a commendable thing, the older you get.

But what happens? pertaining the knowledge of ones self. where does that take you? Sometimes I wonder if I ever do bump into her again, other times I worry if I’d have to be responsible in any way? She’s talked about going to the hospital on many occasions, and sometimes says the thing that old people usually say of “I don’t have much time left in this world.” Sure death is a factor of life that I’ve grown to accept, but I guess the thing that scares me about it? eventually there will be no one around to know. I had this thought after I helped her walk her stroller up a practically straight hill. She held onto herself a bit as if she was in a lot of pain. I went a long with it in helping her, but in the back of my mind I’m hoping she doesn’t keel over.

These things could surely happen at any moment. An old lady that was my neighbor since I’ve lived here; over the last summer has either passed on or been moved to a home. I’d think the former judging by the way her son and his wife were acting when they were cleaning out the place.

I don’t know, maybe I’m really just afraid of knowing old people, with the knowledge of not knowing how much time they have left. Then again, that can go for anybody.

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