“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to bother you. I’m a homeless vet. I fought in Iraq. I haven’t eaten all day and I’m very hungry. Anything you could spare would be greatly appreciated. Anything at all.”

I mentally flinched. It’s at least the third time now that I’ve seen him on the subway. Whether that says more about the stasis of his situation, mine or New York’s I don’t know. What I do know is that I have no idea what to do.

The first time I saw him—that must have been two years ago—I fished out a dollar bill and handed it over with a small sense of relief and satisfaction. It wasn’t his fault that the American military had lured him in, used him, and spat him back out. I didn’t agree with that situation. It was fucked up. And my dollar bill (thank goodness it was lying handy in my wallet!) was a small token of my sympathy/defiance.

The second time I saw him was a couple of weeks ago. And I remember this sinking feeling in my stomach upon recognizing him. You’re still here? I thought. But what about my dollar bill and all the other precious dollar bills that you might have picked up since the day I opened the floodgates of my compassion to a crack just large enough for a single dollar to pass through?

I also found myself beginning to have doubts. Was he really a vet? There’s no reason to suppose that he wasn’t. But he’s not using that money for food right? I mean, someone who’s just hungry would have gotten himself out of this situation by now…which means it must be drugs. That’s something you can’t so easily shake. In which case, had I been naive to give him money before? Should I be giving to a charity that helps homeless drug addicts?

Today I felt numb. Actually, I simply switched off my capacity to feel. The train was packed and some people were listening to his story. A few even gave dollar bills. But I looked forward, neutral and impassive, silently wishing that he’d pass more quickly through the carriage. So that I wouldn’t be reminded of my impotence to change his situation.

Except deep down, I knew that it wasn’t about that. All this reasoning about the best way to act was simply a veil. Don’t give him money if he’s going to spend it on drugs. If I give to him, should I give to every person I see on the street? I should give twenty dollars not one, but then I’d be broke if I did that for everyone. I need to find a way to improve the system but I don’t know how etc.

I’ve never been truly at a loss about what I should do or even how to do it. I have always agonized about whether I want to do anything at all. And every time I see that homeless veteran, I’m reminded of my apathy.