When the sun starts to yawn and drifts to sleep, the moon begins to stretch and rises awake. At this moment, I brace myself for the night. I lie down and try to shut my eyes away from the daily despair I face; I look up at the top of my tent in negativity. I let the “what ifs” eat away hope as I shit anxiety.
What you call your bed cushion is what I would call my soggy cardboard and your bed frame is my cold concrete. The blankets that cover me are ones I never bought. Maybe some middle class family got them on sale and decided to give them away to Goodwill after their spoiled kid tattooed piss on them every night?
It’s 2am and roars of the intoxicated youth permeate closer. I remember those days, I had it good. But, I never forecast the storm the “system” would usher. I thought to myself, “that’ll never be me.” Ha, how naïve. I slept a lot back then, and not literally. If only I had been more conscious. Now, I never sleep, and I mean that both literally and figuratively.
In a couple of hours my ‘alarm clock’ will ring, but not the one you might have in your room. At 6am, a security guard will wake me up and kick me off the premises. Sometimes I am lucky and have someone who treats me like a human being, but most of the time, it’s a guard filled with judgement who treats me like a blight on society. Little does he know that he is probably one less paycheck away from being on the street like me.
I’ll get up and head to a fake ass church and eat breakfast served to me by lost volunteers. But before I can swell my stomach I’ll have to wait outside the glamorous houses of “God” and tell them I accept Jesus as my savior so I can eat the refined, processed, frozen, and cancer canned foodstuff. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers, so I just eat it. At least the food is enjoyed with fellow sufferers. In such an environment, we masticate in gloom. Luckily, I get enough meals a day here that I can indulge in beer.
It’s fifteen minutes after 6 and I am off on my nomadic journey through these jungles of concrete. I’ll probably sit on sidewalks waiting for cops or businesses to treat me like a soccer ball. Till then, I will let my used hat beg for money. Maybe some apathetic person will feel like they did their good deed of the day by tossing annoying change and tip money in my hat. Hopefully, I will get enough money to buy a 40oz of beer so I can drown away whatever vestiges of being I have left. Never was into alcohol, but the few hours of drunkenness are a few hours less of realization of my situation.
Maybe I made some poor choices in life? Maybe not? Maybe events out of my control initiated my current state?
Maybe I am bitter, maybe I am angry, maybe I am sad? Or maybe I am just homeless. Point is, whether I am homeless or not, I am a human just like you. Be careful with your judgement — whether correct or not, because life’s train can derail anytime, and baby, when it crashes, it crashes hard.
***Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you enjoy what you read; please share, like, and comment. All of these details help me drastically and will allow me to write more often. Thank you for your support!***