Nor a sheepdog nor anything of the sort. I never could fit myself into any of those roles, and they chafed when I tried. Oh, the sheepdog thing is admirable enough, and i try as often as I can to help as many people as I can, because I’m wired that way- and if there is an opportunity for to come to someone’s aid, I will, and do, when i can, in ways that I can.

But no, none of that is me, and won’t ever be. I’m something different, and I’m beginning to be able to really recognize my own, because there are a lot of us out there.

I’m a vulture. It’s a word that has a lot of horrible connotations and everyone hates them, but they are a necessary part of the ecosystem, and they perform an absolutely vital function.

I wade in to the messes that everyone else creates, and I clean them up. Oh, it’s gross and dirty and looked down upon, but i have developed physical and emotional immunities to the gore and the disease, and I will in fact thrive on the mess.

Because there is always a mess. And there are always the people who can go into a situation that looks horrible and profit from it. And people hate them, the opportunists and the mercenaries, who cherrypick through the rubble and make the best out of what they can find.

When you see the vultures circling, remember who made the mess.