This is what it looks like.

I sat comfortably at Soup Kitchen downing the last few spoons of my Tangy Tomato and Basil. It was at a busy mall basement and the after-office crowd crawled all over the place. As I stared ahead into nothing in particular, a man caught my eye. A frail, old man who tightly clutched a worn-out shoulder bag. He looked agitated – disturbed in fact. He constantly looked left and right with a purpose I couldn’t quite discern. I wondered if he was trying to ask for money, but he never did make any suggestive gesture to anyone. I followed him with my eyes, trying hard not to blink lest I miss an act of begging. He shifted his position to a few meters away every now and then, and soon enough he had walked to somewhere out of my view. I finished up my plate and took out from my wallet all the cash that I had left to place it somewhere I could easily reach. As I walked towards the direction he went, I observed that he continued to do the same. I wanted to ask him if he had a problem, but I was scared he might not understand English. I lingered around somewhere near, casually observing and just waiting for the tiniest sign that he was there to ask for help – still he never gave one. Something told me he needed it, but I needed a sign that he welcomed that help. I felt frustrated at why he didn’t make it easier – people usually held signs if they wanted to ask for money. But then again I thought to myself, I don’t always give those people money. It seemed futile so I walked away to buy something that I had intended to buy after eating. The thought of him didn’t leave me, so I tried to look for the old man again after my purchase. After searching a few places, I found him. It was strange to keep walking around so I decided to stand a few meters away from him. I watched him as he stood near some kids with their mom. He smiled at the children and I wished that perhaps the mother would give him something so that I could follow suit. But after they bought what they were in line for, they simply walked away. I stood there paralyzed by my irrational fears. I was afraid to insult him if he didn’t need money. I was afraid he might be crazy and make a scene if I handed him the money. I was afraid I’d be embarrassed if he didn’t take the money. After a few minutes, he started walking towards me. That was my chance – I looked at him, ready to fish out the cash and hand it quickly. As he walked towards me from the crowd, we held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. But he ended up simply walking past me. I gave up after a few more minutes of hanging around and walked away. But a sense of failure haunted me as I retreated from the situation with my newly purchased hundred dollar eyeshadow palette, my thousand dollar phone, and what not. It wasn’t the same feeling as failing an exam. It wasn’t the same feeling of making a mistake at work. It wasn’t the same feeling as offending someone. It was the feeling of failing as a human.

And I’m not writing it to get any kind of sympathy which I clearly don’t deserve. I’m writing it because it’s one of those failures which are better not learned through experience. May this serve as a cautionary tale of what this kind of failure looks like.