Hippie was a homeless veteran, on the streets since he was dishonorably discharged from the military for his addiction to methamphetamine. He was still struggling. I felt bad for his misfortune, or at least what he portrayed it to be. So I kind of adopted him into my family and began to help him with anything he would need to survive outside, such as blankets, sleeping bags, clothing, food, etc. I even gave him the occasional option to crash on my couch, usually if the weather was especially horrible. I counseled him and gave him new skills to get past the emotional turmoil his life had accumulated. I would go out of my way to make sure that he heard at least one nice affirmation daily to keep his self esteem more balanced. I did all of this…and how was I repaid? Hippie stabbed me in the back, went and kissed up to my new boss, and robbed me of the job I’d had for two years. So don’t let this story keep you from helping people, just don’t be a dumbass like I was by giving him a spot in my personal life. Keep your heart sheltered from the storm. Lesson learned!


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