There's this homeless man who lives under a bridge 0.5 miles from my home. I know it's 0.5 miles because I measured the distance for my running trail. He's there about half the time. I think it's where he "lives." Or at least it's where he hangs out a lot.

By the look on his face, I'm assuming he's schizophrenic. That might sound prejudice, but schizophrenia is actually characterized by what we call "flat affect." Meaning they are almost expressionless. They don't even look sad. They just look blank. Hollywood chooses not to include this in their movies about schizophrenics though.

I've smiled at him. And he looks at me with a blank stare. If he's not schizophrenic, then his stare could mean he's in shock that someone's acknowledging him. But I don't think so, I think he's schizophrenic.

I sometimes think about how cold it is during winter and how fucking sucky it would be to sleep outside. I've considered giving him blankets we don't use. I think about giving him some of my water I bring on my run. I've thought about talking to him and asking him what his story is. And today, I even thought about how fucking shitty it would be to not have clean underwear. God, the lives of homeless suck.

I think about things like these every time I go on my run, whether or not he's under the bridge. And yet, I truly don't want to do more than just acknowledge him. If I don't at least acknowledge him, then I would really suck as a human being. I mean, I pass by him frequently, and he's a fellow human with almost nothing, I have to at least let him know I see him. But I don't know when I'll be the person who does something for him, something more than just acknowledgement of his existence.

I've heard of a study where subjects' brains were imaged while being shown photos. When a photo of a homeless person came up, the part of the brain that activated was not the social, emotional center. Their brain activated as if viewing an inanimate object. I could see how that's possible. While we know their human, we treat them like a different kind of human.

I understand on an intelligent level that they could not always have been this way. They were "normal" and cared for at one point in their lives. They've just been so, so unfortunate. So why do I continue to keep a barrier between me and them? Maybe because I'm not ready to be generous right now in my life. I rationalize to myself that I'm six-figures in debt, so I'm technically poorer than them. But that's a lie. I live a very comfortable life while in debt. I can't afford to give to all homeless persons I come across, so I don't give to any.

But what about this homeless man who I see regularly? I don't even see him outside a business begging. I see him where he just kills time, I kind of see him in his home. I don't think I can or want to answer that question yet.

I think about what the hell happened with this man's family that he now appears to be alone. Having such a large family, I know that if I ever got kicked in the ass financially, I would never be homeless. I am very grateful.