Love In An Age Of Complete Indifference: Heavy Boots.

Note: This post has a completely unrelated happy ending.

I live in a suburb that was once solely public housingcommission. It is also wheelchair friendly so there are many disabled people living around here. It has exposed me to the reality of living in constant pain and hardship; sometimesinspiringlywonderful, other times desperately bleak.

A few days ago I was in the local pharmacy getting some cold and flu tablets. A lady in a wheelchair who I recognised but did not know by name was there too, muttering irritably. The pharmacist emerged from her office and told the lady quietly something about how she couldn't give her any more medication this month as the government wasn’t going to pay for it. Something like that anyway. I felt bad listening into such a private conversation in public but I couldn’t stop my ears so I just browsed the cheap perfume aisle and tried to look absent-minded.

After the lady had exclaimed many profanities she said loudly to nobody in particular, “No one understands what it’s like to have fuck all. You’re poor so you have to fire a cleaner? Big fucking deal.” As she turned to leave she added “I might as well be fucking dead.”

Her words hit me like a train that had been gathering speed downhill since its inception.

Suddenly, it was my turn at the counter. The pharmacist grimaced at me apologetically, as though I should be disgruntled by the woman’s words. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

***

The next day at work I was asked to go buy some chicken. I don’t eat meat so I despise doing this. I always get the most ethical when forced to for work...or I “forget” it on my shopping list. This time however I was told specifically not to buy organic because according to my boss “they’re just too damn expensive”.

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After leaving the supermarket I felt as though I’d personally slaughtered 50 chickens.

At some point everyone becomes a hypocrite. I guess this is mine. I do not believe in ending a life for my pleasure but I’m too worried about my boss’ scorn to object. How pathetic.

Anyway.

As I walked into the delicatessen to pick up our ham order (YAY), the woman in the wheelchair from the pharmacy was talking animatedly to the owner. He had just IOUd her some cigarettes. As I left, she was smoking one outside; a triumphant grin on her face.

I don’t know what to think. Maybe it’s a combination of my flu, hormones and this goddamn dismal weather but these happenings have given me heavy boots.

***

I went home and asked people to me to link me happiness. These were the results: