I’m the perfect definition of an altruist. I live to be there for others, even to my own detriment. The best part about my gift, because I truly would call it a gift, is that I can see the good, the purpose, in everyone. Even in those who might not see it in themselves.

My most recent example was a homeless man I saw sitting at the street corner, a worn cardboard sign in his hands, begging for food. This was about four months ago. I, being the wonderful human being that I am, drove home and cooked this man a delicious meal with what meat I hadn’t donated to the local food bank. When I brought it to him, he was ever so grateful, and we struck up a fast friendship. Weeks went by, as I brought him more food, gave him money, gave him new clothes; even helped him apply for a job. I worked so hard to put him in a better place, to allow him to contribute to humanity, that it was quite distressing to see him still sitting on that street corner in tattered clothes with that same worn sign after four months.

Tonight, I invited him back to my home, determined to give him another chance. I can still see the purpose in him, despite his best efforts to fail. Everyone has a purpose, and his is just as clear as the last misguided soul I’d tried to help. As he lies there dead on the floor, some of his blood still dripping from the metal pipe in my hand, I think of all the poor families that he will be able to feed. It’s his purpose, and I’m sure he would feel honored to serve humanity. I know I do, every day.