Why I like Humans but not People

I am probably a bad person.
Or maybe not bad, but perceived as such.
Or maybe just too boring to others and not so aware of it as I should?
Or my face looks mean to some.
Or perhaps because I tend to spot easily hypocrisy and other things as such, instead of keeping it entirely to myself I share some of my opinions at times. Well, it doesn’t seem that I make a good impression at first. The hell knows what I do! I must be doing something wrong.
I asked some closer friends about it in the past and they did not illuminate me. I could not clear it up, although I tried.
So, whenever I meet somebody new, I try to change the approach a bit. I’m thinking that in that way maybe this time I will make a good impression from the start. It doesn’t really happen much, no matter what new conduct or behavior I adopt every time.

What puzzled me besides that is how nobody ever forgets me.
I might make that bad impression and I might need to have to use lots of words to correct whatever I suspected goes wrong – even if I don’t have a clue, but after a while people rather like me. The more we interact, the more they feel comfortable with me. After a while even too comfortable. Especially the very young ones. And then a rather unpleasant familiarity and a very cocky attitude replace the previously rather unfriendly or resentful one.
Then, let’s say I move on and we don’t see each other for a while (that can be 3 months or 10 years) and when we meet again, they behave so enthusiastically that it seems we were the best of friends. Although we weren’t, at all.

That has always puzzled me a lot, especially when it comes from someone whose names I cannot even remember any more, because our acquaintance or interaction was brief.

I am basically rather a sad person that likes to laugh a lot.
I love to laugh, it’s one of my favorite things in life; but I’m sad very often despite of that.
People upset me a lot.
I see things every day and they have an impact on me every time.
I see bad things happening and they ruin my day so to speak.
I think that sadness might be very often all over my face and that turns off some people. I don’t know for sure, I look in the mirror at myself only when I make up my face in the morning a little bit. The rest of the day I even put lipstick on occasionally, without the help of the mirror – the privilege of years of practice.

Here is an example of what makes me sad and adds eventually one more line on my face in long term.
One day I was in a junk food outlet.
I hate those places in general – they are rather filthy, greasy and bad smelling. At times, some very crowded ones are noisier than a sports arena. I never understood why everyone feels compelled to speak so loudly in these places to the point that everybody actually yells in the end.
I detest all those trays left behind, full of cold, hard, greasy french fries, shriveled and dark looking, scattered around; and the half full glasses of miserable watery drink they call pompously coca-cola; the half bitten into burgers, laying around throughout the whole joint.
It irritates me when nobody is bothering to collect them or clean the tables.
I hate the spilled drinks on the floor that make the sole of my shoes sticky like glue; I hate the cloth with which they come sometimes to wipe the top of your table clean – unhygienic-bad-smelling-dark-grey-dirty-pieces-of-rag that leave a scent of sewage behind.
However, sometimes I have to go in there (alas!) and buy quickly something fast and cheap because I am broke and in a hurry and I have let’s say 10 minutes only to gobble something and go back to work or whatever the emergency is. It happens about 2-3 times a year, what can I do.

That day, I bought a Cesar salad and sat at a dirty table full of crumbs and circles left by the musty paper cups. At the opposite table was sitting this well-groomed yuppie, munching on a wrap and reading a newspaper.
A homeless man came inside and started searching with feverish eyes for some left overs. There were plenty, but in very small chunks. A half-eaten large burger and plenty of fries were abandoned on a dirty tray on the corner of the table where the yuppie was seated. He was blocking it from view with the paper he was so engulfed in. It wasn’t his; it was just there. The homeless man smiled at it and hastily walked straight to that table. The moment he was less than a step away, the yuppie’s face raised from his tabloid and said ‘Don’t you dare! Get out of here, don’t make me kick you in the balls, you hear me? Get!’ Then he went on reading.
The poor homeless man put his head down and turned around without a word. He went outside and sat down on the pavement. It shocked me, because I expected him to argue at least a bit. He didn’t.
I could see his back pressed against the glass wall by the exit door. He had a tin mug by his side, on the pavement. He was begging, I assumed and that was for coins.
When I finished the salad, I dag in my wallet for all the change I could find. It wasn’t much, but enough for a burger I assumed. Once outside, I stopped in front of him only to see that his tin mug was half full with coffee. His chin, covered by a wild red beard streaked with white hair was resting on his chest. He seemed crushed. The beard was wet with tears. He was sobbing like a baby.
My heart sunk the same way it does when I see children crying. Not brats that howl because mom is dragging them from the store without the toy they wanted – the other type of unhappy children. Those that cry when slapped across the face hard or those that tell me they lost a coin or those that cry because a stronger child just beat them up. Those that were really wronged.

I showed him the money without a word. He thanked me in a whisper and dragged the pocket of his battered jacket open so I could slip the coins in. He did not stop crying even after I left.
That made me sad for more than one day.
It still makes me sad now.
It actually makes me mad. It brings up in me violent feelings and all the regret that I did not say anything to that horrible yuppie with his styled spiky hair, white shirt and silk tie.
The bastard.