A lot of people help me, often. I need a hand constantly to achieve things even in daily life. I'm a selfish asshole, I don't mean to be, it's not a conscience train of thought, but every once in a while I look back and see contributed so little for what others have helped me. It eats at me. I don't know how to return this help. I try, but my efforts are often much less than those given. Phil, 'employed' me for 2 years. I basically played with tools, racked up project cars, and went to the track on weekends. How, what, when will I ever be able to do anything for him? James, was my accomplice. Our adventures always seemed to come at his cost. Including my trip out west, we landed on his couch for many months, and at much greater costs than can be perceived. Robin, gives her all for me every day. There's no return for that. Even her parents seem to be in on it, helping me set up a business. Before even landing, Dorikazer's gave me their homes, time and ears during our trip out west. Once in Victoria I haven't been able to shake the help from the locals. Cars, parts, wrenching, food, advice and general help. There's just not enough I can do to help all these people. There's many more that have come to help me, anonymous and random. People continue to ask if I need a hand, and I grow more and more conscience of the past and future efforts of those I contact with, if briefly or a long time. I don't really know where this post is going, but I know it weighs heavily on my mind.
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