"Please help me"...Please help him

  This is not the face of a desperate man. He cannot be beaten at life.What drove you here?What pushed you over?
  I walk through the glass revolving doors, dragging my wet squeaking sneakers across the marble floor and into the carpeted atrium. I've always encountered strange individuals in this library. The  exccentric young man with his shopping cart, or the petite old lady who comments histrionically on young couples.
But what i was about to see, I had not been prepared for.
 I browsed for my research book, skimming across the shelf, when i accidentally bumped into him. Before sight could justify contact, I sniffed his presence. A sweaty, used smell. "Oh I'm sorry" I muttered.
   But as this middle age man looked up, crows feet hugging his eyes, all I could see was defeat. This individual had given up.
  At his hands was a single page of paper, neatly divided into various columns, and there it read: "Please help me...Please Help me...Please Help me...Please Help me...Please Help me...Please help me...Please Help me..." . It went on  and on, covering the entire page.
    I abruptly skipped away, trying to find my book and escape that aura of pain.
  After scouring every shelf, acceptance of its absence was my only choice. I walked towards the glass exit doors, only to be halted by a hiss... "Hey! take this, it will help". The man handed me a paper with library information explaining how I could attain my research information online. He waddled back to his desk, collapsing his head between his hands in an expression of exhaustion.
   I stood there, holding the paper in awe. A
    Someone, somehow destroyed by life, decided to make mine a little easier. Someone cared. I'm not alone after all.

Onde me levará

Second week on a hotel floor. When will it stop? It will never stop.
   Hes sure this is the permanent course his life will take, there is no alternative, and no room for complaints.
But if he has no choice, why doesn't this urge to settle down cease? He wants to stay put, have a home, have roots. His parents always been afraid to stop, to stay put. They have always feared the thought  of growing accustomed to life in one place, and slowly but surely watch the years fly by. But this life isn't a permanent adventure. This teenager isn't so easily amused. Hes exhausted, hes tired, hes alone. How long until he can have a home?How long until he has friends; friends he doesn't have to say farewell to. Homeless, foreign and confused, again. Its sad that this life has become routine.

Its never a fair deal

  What are you waiting for?Is it me on your mind? Is it someone else? There are others I'm sure, that are far better in every aspect. Better looking, better listeners, better partners. But to say I regret becoming who I am couldn't be farther from the truth. I am my past, I am my experiences, my laughs, my tears. I am everyone I ever met. I am so many things. So take me the way I am, or don't take me at all.