Fragments...

Fragments of a Life...

Fragments of friendship, threads of existence, pieces left trailing behind. Pieces,
that's what you find yourself picking up every moment from a former life that no
longer exists, when you are put on the streets. You are picking through a
life that happened an eternity ago, picking up pieces here, tidbits there and scraps
along the way... Like a puzzle that no longer fits together. 

The edges have worn off, chewed down and no longer connect like they once did.

I'm enduring my 12th year on the streets and meeting with increased harsh
criticism for being out here. People claim I must enjoy being homeless,
because they don't “see” medoing anything to change my circumstance.

They say “ I'm not doing anything about my situation”, Telling me the weather changes

but that I never do. Wish I knew where these people were getting their faulty 
information, because they are grossly misinformed. I invite these people to come with 
me through my days, my weeks, my years and see firsthand what I have to go 
through and contend with. Then they can tell me I'm out here by choice, 
that I enjoy being homeless. But that would mean they would have to widen their 
myopic vision. It makes it easier to cast stones when people choose ignorance 
over the truth and understanding. They see others getting assistance

left and right, being paid to support their addictions and habits, chemical dependency,
so I must be doing something wrong!! 
 

Yeah, by not drinking, or becoming chemically dependent or a substance abuser,
drug addict and so forth, is what I am doing wrong.

I've had several individuals, all well-intentioned, tell me I need to start doing drugs

so the system will finally give me the assistance they have readily denied me thus far.

The raw intensity of living with Mother Nature and the brutal force of man wears on your soul.

Your mind begins to numb after a while, and your body quickly adapts to whatever

circumstance it's presented with, accepting faster than your mind will allow.

Your world becomes a void, a them in “society's movie”, where your life and all the most

intimate details become the feature presentation on the screen for everyone's viewing.

Your dignity is flushed down the public toilet. You become a shadow on the wall
with no existence... echoes filling the air with the tired souls cast aside
into a perpetual hell of a forced circumstance.

I've been so completely drained on every level during these past few months,
the harsher criticism in response to words I never wrote but stamped with my name,
making it more challenging to take care of my personal business. 
I have learned to become a chameleon and blend into my

surroundings while on the streets. Like shedding layers of skin, the
threads of your life are pulled apart and shredded until

nothing further remains and you feel yourself drying out from
the inside like cracked cement.



By Renee Bowen
Homeless since Sept. 1, 2000