Before Samuel Coleridge, we couldn't be selfless.

I have a selfish desire to make myself feel good by selflessly caring for another person.

I'm lost without someone to worry about. I've tried worrying about random people in Sudan and Utahn air quality and several of my roommates, but it's not the same as taking care of my brother. What are my ears for if not to listen for the sounds of him giggling when he's happy or screaming when he's hurt himself? What is my nose for if not to smell when he's set something on fire? What are my arms and hands for if not to pin him down when he attacks my sister or hug him when he's sorry? What am I for if nobody needs me?

Thinking about myself too much gets really depressing.