In retrospect, his home is actually quite big. With five colonnades to offer shelter and shade from the forces of nature, his lifestyle could be considered better than some.
The only force of nature they don’t protect him from, though, is misfortune.
He has many roommates. Some of them can’t walk, while others can’t see. Others can barely even move. And all they want is to take one dip in the magical pool with healing bubbles; bubbles that heal all their seemingly permanent ailments.
He’s long learned to rely on himself, and it’s become a habit. Besides, help is for the weak. Help is for the helpless.
Help is for those who have friends, and he doesn’t remember a time when he hasn’t been alone. So he thinks instead, and holds conversations with himself. Sometimes, he wonders if it would be easier to go crazy, and although he doesn’t really have any way to confirm this, he hypothesizes that it would.
He’s long stopped begging others to help him roll down into the bubbling water, so when the pool begins to stir, he pretends to make an effort, but really he remains in bed, breathing in the dust that the other people make.
He keeps breathing, and thinks that he’s definitely not helpless.