A Little Helping Hand
             Life is different for everyone who lives it. No two people experience the same sensations, emotions or relationships. Every persons life is unique in itself, each of us have our own influences and manipulations as well as manipulators and transgressors. Events happen to us and we forget them. Other people touch our lives and leave us as swiftly as they entered our realm of consciousness. Only the things or people that dramatically change who we are or the paths of our lives or of those close to us, for better or for worse, are remembered. The rest fade into our memory. Each one obviously slightly changes us, but for the most part they disappear without leaving a trace of even their existence. Only the ones that rend the course of our lives from their previous paths, throwing it and us into disarray, have the distinction of being easily recalled. These memories we can hold onto with assurance, these we can remember vividly.
             For me, life has been a virtual flood of helping hands. All of my family and friends have always been caring, concerned and helpful towards me. Strangers always seem to like me off the bat as well. And of these people the ones that I have been close to have a place in my heart and I could explain to you any of these people down to a tee. Yet, I do not have the desire to do so. As much as they have influenced and supported me almost none of them have affected me or my life in the afore mentioned manor. Except, of course, my parents but I would feel childish choosing one of them. Hatred is next in line after love. So for the people I hate, well they are few and far between. I can only think of one or two, me ex-brother-in-law being the most prominent. As much as I would enjoy describing that man to you in all his splendid glory, I would rather not give him this slight honor. So moving on past hatred leaves me with few choices for my topic. Yet, there they are. The few s...