You could help the helpless, but you don't really care.

From time to time you remember yourself. The old things long gone. From time to time you look up from your gutter and see the ponies passing by. Most endeavor to avoid you. As typical. Never to mind, you watch them trot. You watch them trot or stop or trot again. You neither trot nor stop. On some occasions it begins to look enjoyable. And so you, twig in the wind, get the thought in your head it might be enjoyable to trot as well. But you are on your belly. So reaching forth a hoof you then drag yourself in the mud. Only a small while. Only a small while before you have your fill of it. Then it is relinquished and face drops once more into the mud. And it is decided trotting is not as enjoyable as so looked. Until next occasion you look up and see ponies trotting.