"Fine. Maybe I've... met some good people. I wasn't going out of my way to do so. It doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?"
The old man pulled out a small thermos, opening the top and pouring out a half a cup of strong, black coffee into its top lid. He sipped on it for a while as I just watched, waiting for him to continue.
> I know he is trying to get me to think it through myself, but my rebellion is spiking now that I've realized I'm treating him like a loved family member. Because I don't really know how to do regular with… family anymore. <
"You know, there's a difference between being needed by people and being invited to see them."
"What do you mean?"
"Being needed is easy - any crisis they are in will do. Someone needs a ride somewhere, needs help with a thesis, needs a place to crash after drinking too much… "
