I’ve never been so noble as to claim to want to help everyone (I’m more selfish than most in that altruistic regard), but I also don’t understand not helping someone who is there and clearly needs help. It just makes sense that two people can accomplish more than a single person. It’s efficient, which I recognize even if my pride prevents me from asking for help most of the time. In my case this is most often physical assistance because I excel at lifting things
Anyway, the other night, I had this dream that I was pushing a 1978 Nova along Route 66. I knew it to be Route 66 because I was passing through an ancient town in the desert which was completely abandoned except for the old man sitting in a rocking chair on his porch, laughing at me, holding a cigar in one hand and masturbating with the other. This is how I knew. Someone was at the wheel to ensure it remained in the lane, and no other cars passed us. I took one slovenly step after another and I knew I felt hot and tired, but not exhausted. I was only wearing a pair of jeans. My feet were bloody and I could see straw poking through the skin. As time passed we progressed alongside a mountain that spilled shale and sea shells across the highway, forcing me to break the shells and cut the soles of my feet beyond recognition. I never wanted to stop, though. This was what they call the key takeaway. Spent as I was, and alone in spite of the company, I just didn’t want to stop.