Happi Ness's blog

It's hard for me to put into words what it was like at home; I've never found just the right example to explain the burden I felt.

Where, oh where, have the good guy gone? Where, oh where, could they be?

Every time I see someone with a "will work for food" sign, I feel unbelievably sympathetic for this grungy, tattered person standing at the corner of a busy highway intersection. I have seen so many people turn their heads and look away, afraid that if they help, they are fueling someone's drug addiction and bad life choices.