On the streets, we are polite, holding doors to those that are behind us. Heading into a building and you see a female with a stroller, you run ahead of her to open the door, it makes things a lot easier for the lady. You see your elderly neighbour struggling to get articles into their place; you stop what you are doing to give a helping hand.

Yet the second you get into a vehicle does not matter if you are driving or not. Someone does anything you dislike something on the line will come out of your mouth, “fucking moron, where did he get his driver’s license from? a crackerjack box!” You’re driving a motorized killing machine that no one is ballsy enough to mess with you! I am that passenger

Behind a computer screen, individuals scan articles searching for someone to start a fight with just because they do not like what is said or how the other looks—not knowing where they are. The filth the individuals let the world know is degrading and disrespectful. The individuals are chuckling as they press send. I was the victim as the one to assist someone being harassed

They are the ones that will never understand how I had to walk five minutes to an ex-friends place lip off to them and stomp all the way home.

There is something about being hidden that makes individuals vile and impertinent. Trolls are my favourites! Their material is boring repetitive, and they cannot battle intelligence along with creativity. And yes, I am that person that will tell at a moving car on while on the sidewalk, “Hello, the driving zone is 40/kph!” As if they heard me! I am also the person that will step out on to the road, stopping traffic so that a child that has been standing at a crosswalk can get to the other side. Get dirty looks from the drivers, I will be smiling while I point to the sign that says “yield to pedestrians.”

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