Ported from a dead account Smart-ass college cinephiles with their art history degrees may criticize people for idolizing Travis Bickle, but all their words amount to nothing. Because, if there was a Travis among those they know, they'd never do anything to stop him. What do you know about traversing streets looking for trouble? Being out at night in the bad part of town for no reason? Thinking to yourself: "I wish that fucker tried something because I wanna fuck somebody up"? Because you get sick to your stomach by the indifference. You were raised upon the principles that nobody upholds. And then you're mocked for staying true to something, something you thought of as a moral compass. There is no moral compass and the streets are cold. Light up a cigarette to warm your fingers. Load up a clip because it is mechanical. No safety cause there never have been any. Many of us imagine ourselves as heroes. I still remember being 23-24 walking around town fantasizing about saving someone. I don't know why. I think because I wanted to be valued for something. But also maybe I had itchy knuckles and a deathwish. I definitely had a deathwish.