The man on the bus

I was 16 when this happened. I was taking the bus on Sunset Boulevard heading home from my new school in Lincoln Heights. I got on the crowded bus and saw a seat available, even though a dozen people stood. I grabbed the seat and immediately noticed why the seat was empty. To my right sat a disheveled, older man with clear mental issues. He smelled a tad pungent as he rocked himself forward and back with a low moan. He was obviously distressed. I looked at the people who watched me sit down, that were probably wondering what I would do next, now that I was aware of the situation.

I sat back slowly, closed my eyes, calmed my breath and started sending the man soothing thoughts. I kept telling him he was okay, everything was alright. I'm sure it was an interesting sight for those that were witnessing this. Slowly the man stopped moaning and rocking, but the moment my attention diverted from sending him soothing thoughts he would start up again. So the entire ride I proceeded to send him these thoughts. The bus ride wasn't more than about 15 minutes. As my stop approached I started to bid him farewell (mentally) and as I opened my eyes and proceeded to leave his shaking became very vigorous, far worse than it had been when I had sat down originally. But there was nothing I could do. I felt bad. I truly did. The poor man on the bus that no one would sit next to, who was probably 100 times more afraid of those people on the bus then they were of him.