Another man’s trash

On my way to and from school I used to pick up one piece of trash off the side of the road or in the grass along the sidewalk. I always double checked to make sure it wasn’t particularly goopy or sloppy or infested with critters. Because I wasn’t about to pick that one up. But other more normal looking trash, sure. No skin off my ass.

Then I’d throw the piece of trash away.

I did this every day for years. No one asked me to do this. No one even hinted. I did not feel controlled by guilt or fear. It wasn’t going towards my GPA. There was no one around to “catch me being good.” I didn’t do it to get into heaven. No competition.

I just did it because it made me feel good in my own little life.

I’m not sure when or why I stopped doing this. Maybe because it was no longer apart of my daily routine. I stopped walking to school and drove a car an hour to get to the city.

But I have a dog that I walk every day, so it’s literally that easy for me to get that groove going again. Even if it’s pointless. When I was a kid, it didn’t seem pointless at all.

I’ve been staring out my window at the same discarded UPS box for the last two days, and oh look, my dog has to pee.

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