I felt sorry for a homeless man and gave him some hot soup — but a week later, I deeply regretted my kind act 😨😢
About two weeks ago, on my way to work, I noticed him for the first time. A man in his thirties, seemingly ordinary at first glance — neat but worn-out clothes, an unshaven face, an empty stare. I didn’t pay much attention then. But later, when my shift at the bar was ending, I stepped outside to take a phone call — and he was still standing there.
The wind was biting, the cold pierced to the bone. And he wasn’t even trying to find shelter. I couldn’t take it anymore and walked up to him.
“Good evening… are you okay? Do you need help? Should I call someone?” I asked, and at that moment, a sharp smell hit me, making me step back.
He looked at me with a slightly guilty expression.
“No, thank you… I’m here because there’s no wind in this spot. I’m not bothering anyone, am I?”
“No, you’re not… But have you been here since this morning?”
“Almost. I stepped into a store a couple of times to warm up.”
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“I bought some bread… just nibbling on it slowly.”
“Why are you… why aren’t you at home?” I finally asked.
He lowered his eyes.
“I don’t have one.”
I swallowed hard, doing my best to hold back the pity.
“Wait here.”
I went inside and bought him a proper meal using my employee discount. Hot and decent food. I seated him on the bar’s patio — at least there was a roof over his head. He ate in silence, barely lifting his eyes. By the time I came out to close up, he was gone.
At that moment, I couldn’t have imagined that soon I would regret my good deed so deeply.
The man came back the next day. And the next. And again. He sat in the same spot, waiting. And I started feeling like it was my duty to feed him. Every time. This went on for nearly a week.
But I couldn’t keep going. I didn’t have enough money to endlessly feed someone. On top of that, customers began complaining about his strong smell, and management nearly fired me. But how could I tell a hopeless man that he wasn’t welcome here?
So I gathered all my courage and found him a shelter. A place for the homeless — they’d feed him, give him a roof.
Now he’s there, with a warm bed and food. But I still feel torn inside. Did I do the right thing by taking him there and stopping my help?
I feel so broken and don’t know how to live with this.
