Over the years I suppose I've changed. Everybody does. I was painfully shy as a child, which probably caused me to over-compensate and to appear a bit of a spoiled brat at times.
One thing that hasn't changed in me is my compassion for others. However I might try to feign a world-weariness sometimes, I still worry about "people" in general. This way lies madness, if taken to extremes, so I've had to try to keep a lid on it and satisfy myself with the odd random act of kindness, supporting Greenpeace and trying not to be unpleasant to anyone, no matter how much I may dislike them or feel that they deserve it.
That's strangers, though. When someone close to me, whom I love and care about, is hurt or cross or upset then it's going to impact me. Not on the surface level where it affects my interactions with others or means I can't do my job. I mean deep down inside where the deepest and truest of emotions lay. The best way to describe it is "what touches you, touches me".
For someone I love, I'll take on the world, if they'll let me.
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