Please forgive me. This is me being honest for a minute. This is me opening up instead of the usual norm or talking about the best foot forward or positive affirmation ideas that I usually try to convey. Instead, this is me giving an old side of my personality a voice.
So for now, I will let my words go to replace thought with action and openly show the truth in my heart.
I saw a picture yesterday of man that was beaten for no reason whatsoever. He is kind, fully-grown, and yet still somewhat childlike. He is a man that was born with the benefit of having special needs. I am sure there are other words used to describe him, like slow, or some other words that will not be mentioned.
Instead, I will describe him this way; born with the benefit of having special needs. I say it this way because this is a man that does not have hatred in his heart. He smiles. He is friendly. He is giving, and yes, his life requires some assistance but at no point does he deserve what happened.
I saw this
picture and felt my blood moving quickly. I saw his picture and saw what they
had done to him. I wished I was there.
I wished I could have been there when this happened. I wish I could have met the people that did this and shown them a different side of this.
I wish I could have shown them what curbside justice looks like. If I’m being honest, in full disclosure, I would I could have shown them the worst side of their mirrored image.
And as I think this way and as I type this note, banging my fingers against the keys on this keyboard, like clackity-clack-clack, my eyes are beginning to leak tears because chances are if I was there to interfere, and chances are if I was in the position to create justice, this young man who was born with the benefit with special needs would most likely ask me to stop.
He would probably ask me to leave them alone. Regardless to whether they would have hurt him, he would not want me to hurt them.
And yes, I want to hurt them. Yes, I want them to feel pain. I want them to feel the same exact pain and the emotional hurt they put upon this man.
I’m sure he would have liked to be stood up for. I’m sure he would have liked what I would have said. But I am also sure that I would have taken this too far and I am more than sure he would have stopped me from placing an exclamation point on my message.
So yes, I agree this man requires assistance with a few things in his life. But then again, don’t we all?
He was born with the benefit of special needs. He doesn’t have hate in his heart like the rest of us do. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t know about vengeance. He doesn’t care about revenge. He just wants to be happy and have a good time.
The rest is
my cross to bear. My thirst vengeance is my fault. I haven’t learned to live
the way he does.
I admire him.
That’s right . . .
I admire him. I want to reach out to his family, which I am trying to do. I want to reach out to him and let him now that I, Ben Kimmel, do solemnly swear to be a friend from now until whenever, to run around with, to scream as loud as he wants with, to do whatever, and above all, to live up to this young man’s standard of character and learn how to remove hate and violence from my vocabulary and to be more like him.
And this is
This is our society. This is the way we live. This is how much we have advanced to the point that a man who walks the neighborhood is beaten by a group of punks, just because, and somehow, this goes on with little notice.
I am angry
now. Typing quickly,
I wish I was there though.
I wish I could have shown them what anger is. I wish I could have shown them what hatred is—but yet, there I go already, defying a solemn promise to live up to the potential of a young man with the benefit to be born the way he is.
I will do better.. I will do my best to learn
It would have been nice to be there.
God, I hate bullies