I felt sorry for a homeless man and gave him a bowl of hot soup, but a week later I deeply regretted my good deed

I felt sorry for a homeless man and gave him a bowl of hot soup, but a week later I deeply regretted my good deed. 😨😢

About two weeks ago, on my way to work, I noticed him for the first time. A man around thirty, at first glance perfectly ordinary — neat but worn-out clothes, unshaven face, empty stare. At that moment, I didn’t pay much attention. But when my shift at the bar was ending, I stepped outside to make a call — and he was still there.

The wind was already biting, the cold went straight to my bones. And he wasn’t even trying to find shelter. I couldn’t stand it and went up to him.

“Good evening… are you okay? Do you need help? Should I call someone?” I asked, and at that moment a sharp smell reached me, making me step back.

He looked at me a bit apologetically:
“No, thank you… I’m here because there’s no wind. Am I in the way?”

“No, you’re not in the way… But have you been here since this morning?”

“Almost. I went into the store a couple of times, just to warm up a bit.”

“Were you able to eat anything?”

“I bought bread… nibbling on it slowly.”

“Why… why aren’t you at home?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He lowered his eyes:

“There is no home.”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold back my pity.

“Wait here.”

I went inside and got him a warm meal using my staff discount. I seated him on the veranda, at least a roof over his head. He ate in silence, barely lifting his eyes. When I came out to close up — he was already gone.

At that moment, I could never have imagined that sometime later I would deeply regret that good deed. Continued in the first comment 👇👇

The next day, that homeless man came back again. And again the next day. And again. He sat in the same spot, waiting. And I felt as if I had a duty to feed him. Every time. It went on like that for almost a week.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t have enough money myself to endlessly feed a person. Besides, customers were complaining about his strong smell, and management nearly fired me. But how could I tell a hopeless person that he wasn’t welcome here?

So I gathered all my courage and found a shelter for him. A homeless shelter where they would take him in and feed him.

Now he is there, with a roof over his head, a warm bed and food. But still there is a doubt inside me: was I right to take him there and stop helping him myself?

I feel so broken and I don’t know how to live with it.