Yesterday at work, a man came in and tried to order a hotdog from me, only to be told that he would have to order off of the screen at the kiosk. He said, "Oh, nevermind. I don't know how to work those things." I offered my help and together we walked over to one of the screens and I began to show him how to order. Before I could even get out "Here are all your options," he said, "Can you do this all for me? I don't know how to read or write."
I don't know what I would do if couldn't read or write. I would never be able to let my thoughts go. That's what I do. Whenever I get these deep thoughts or I want to tell someone something but am afraid to or even just thoughts that I can't let go of, I grab a notebook and a pen and just go from there. I have zillions of notebooks full of my thoughts and what I should tell people. Without writing, I would be a bigger headcase than I already am.
That's all I had to say, really.
The End.
Yes.
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1 comment:
So sad, that would've broke my heart.
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