I Am A Poor Person

1126 Words 5 Pages
I am a privileged person. Growing up as an only child, I had my parents’ full attention and everything I could possibly desire. I never had to worry about my economic status, causing me to adopt a narrow, self-centered mindset. Although I hate to use the word “spoiled” to describe myself, I feel that it is an accurate description of how I was raised. In middle school, my mother drove me to and from school every day, because taking the city bus would turn a ten minute car ride into a thirty minute bus ride, with at least two transfers. Thus, I enjoyed the luxuries of my personal bubble, and did not interact much with people outside of my neighborhood. Aside from taking the subway once every few months to go to some fancy restaurant in the city, …show more content…
The change from a small suburban town to a large, bustling metropolis could not be more drastic. My first impression of the city was that everyone walked at an uncomfortably rapid pace. One could easily identify a New Yorker based on his fast walking, fast talking, fast eating, fast thinking…It was clear to me that I did not fit in. Instead of being the person who shuffles up the subway escalator, I was the one who stood still, holding on to the railing. Prior to living in the city, I had regarded jaywalking as a dangerous, preposterous, and silly idea. Why can’t one just wait 15 seconds for the light to turn …show more content…
For that reason, I do not know if my perception of him was lacking or even entirely incorrect. Regardless, I found it fascinating how I was able to determine so much information about him simply through sharing the same space. By observing Nikolai, I had allowed myself to become more empathetic and became aware of my individualistic mindset. While I was aware that there are other people in the world, living their own lives, I seldom took time to think about others and remember that each person has their own story. We all meet different people, have different mindsets, and undergo different experiences. Thus, if anyone is asked to present his “life story”, it would be extremely lengthy and interesting. Nobody’s life is exactly the same; there are over seven billion “life stories” in the world--this is the beautiful diversity of life. Yet despite all our differences, I and the other regular passengers on the bus were able to form a small

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