Who is the worse?

Two people, each succumbed to illegal drug 'X'.

One person, A, lived poshly, every item one could ever want a fingertip away. Yet Daddy was always away and Momma's too busy being plastic and such. Best Friend just wants to get in another's pants, and Teacher just doesn't understand.

The other, B, lives in the slums. The hood. The 'Orange Mound' of the world (forgive me, denizens of cities other than Memphis). Their life is surrounded by pain and people being torn away. Father, though he deserves not the title, died while in prison. Mom is too far gone. Her mind just let go.

Both ran away to an artificial delirium. But who is the weaker?

Is it A who had money and material, though no trace of emotion? Should they have resisted?

Or was it B, who had nothing, except knowledge from experience? Should B have known better, to not destroy with drugs as so many others had?

Please answer. And then I beg, read on.


I find in myself more sympathy for B than A. And I've thought on this and thought, and came to a conclusion for myself. My life ran more similar to A, and therefore having gone through and never once succumbing, I find A to be weak (I was able, why not they?)

Then again, I can see where one may feel the opposite. B already had so much pain. B had already seen how much drugs hurt. B should have known better.

And then I step back and pull out my math mind.

Both lived without guidance. Both lived without love. Both lived near substance. Both wanted escape.

One wanted feeling.
One wanted numbness.




Both held hope.
Hope for something better.


We all want something better.

How could I convict one such as myself? How could I be so cruel to not understand?

And yet again, I pull away.

Mathematically, they shatter my heart.
Emotionally, A disgusts me, while I long to help B.

It seems backwards.

As long as I hold this picture in my mind, of classmates and menial worries, racoons eyes and vile rumors, I can have no compassion for A.

Am I as horrid as they? To have no heart for my home? Or is that yet another symptom of the human condition?

Please tell me. Please.

Am I truly mad to have more affection for strangers rather than those I've known for my lifetime? Or are the wires in our mind strung in such a manner?

Feed my questions and self-serving philosophical debate.

Darling, please.