~ Ceasing
to Exist ~
Becoming
more and more a fixture with nature, than with the human
counterparts.
Falling by the wayside... The very moment I was
forced out on the brutal streets by
and through the illegal actions
of a despicable landlord in the City of Alameda,
because I refused
to “service him”. Not only was my life halted, but in a very
real
sense, I ceased to exist-- to society, to being a resident of
everywhere, a
citizen of nowhere.. and in a very real way, died a
thousands deaths from that
moment. And the endless lifetimes since
then. I truly ceased to exist. People readily
discarded my
friendship, turn away from me-- and made it crystal clear my presence
is
nothing but a harsh nuisance in their lives, something they barely
tolerate, if
even that. You are shown the most inhospitable forms of
people's true nature, what
they are truly capable of, in their lowest
form. I hate being present anymore.
The deliberate cruelty, the
ugly words, behaviors your subject to day and night,
regardless of
where you are. Nothing but complete silence from those who
professed
to care. Yet, their silence speaks volumes beyond that.
Telling me no
one gives a damn. Never really has.
I
haven't stopped living, just let go... resigning myself to the
facts of life. And feeling
the reality, more and more. It has
settled deep into my bones, through ever fiber from
my being. My
life came to a stop the moment I was forced out here, filling my time
as best I could by volunteering for years on end.. only to have some
bus driver
accusing me of “stalking her”, because she would see
me on various lines. She literally
took different lines/runs just
to get away from me, then gets outraged when she sees
me along her
'new' run, where I was waiting for a different bus, not hers, and she
pulls right in front of me, where I am waiting for my bus, demanding
to know
“why are you here, why are you here, do you have an
appointment?,
Why are you here, dammit”, then closing her doors and
pulling further up to where her stop was.
So
I have stopped volunteering, at least for the time being, and been
keeping
more and more to myself. Keeping my closest friends with me
24/7, my pen and
notebook, then invite my other friends into my days,
books of every genre, allowing
me to travel all over the world,
experience new cultures and a nice reprieve from
this oppressive
thing called life and the reality that follows. Something I no
longer
wish to be part of. When people say right next to you how
they can't stand you and
want nothing to do with you. Spreading
rumors about you based on their opinions and
not on fact, all their
friends treat you the same, without ever finding out if what
they are
hearing is true, in any form. They don't care. They don't even know
you,
have never spoken to you, but perceive you as this type of
person because their
friend doesn't like you, for whatever reason.
Disheartening, in the truest sense.
And
the thing that really bites, this is one of the individuals claiming
to “care” about me,
and that “we were friends”. Really?
This is how she treats a friend? Certainly not the
definition that
came to my mind. She would always have a look of such disgust on her
face whenever she saw me. I once asked her about it, her response
was to tell me to
never contact her again, to get the hell out of her
life, to just disappear
indefinitely. Yeah, a true friend there.
So
I know my death would be as unacknowledged as my life has been. My
life-- my
entire life has been more of an unwelcome intrusion than
anything remotely
close to being accepted or even celebrated, in any
regard.
Died
many times over since being forced out here, the essence of your life
draining further and further away with each passing tick of the clock.
Other
drivers following her lead, treating me like a leper instead of a
human being,
so I no longer take the bus like I had been, stopped
relying on it to do what I need to.
If I am not able to walk where I
need to, or where I need to go, then I usually do not go.
I
haven't given up, but merely existing, or rather subsistence, isn't
life, isn't a life...
when you have nowhere, no where to go, but
not allowed where you are-- what do
you do??? Life takes on a whole
new meaning when you are forced to live
it on the streets--
existence, survival, hunger-- in the truest, deepest sense, that
goes
much deeper and far beyond that of mere sustenance from food,
you
hunger for life, for love, for meaning-- wondering if any of it
really exists,
or if that is just another illusion life presents to
you.
Never
knowing if, or when or even what you'll be eating. Life takes you on
such a
harsh new reality and a completely different meaning...
having to live your life
for so long on the streets. All the
textures, meaning, context-- it is all different.
Having to live
your life under the shadows of society, living on the underside
of
humanity-- How do you keep hope alive? Faith and so much more?
Where does
it come from, time and again.... where do you go, where
do you look. How do you
keep something that fades further and
further into the distance, becoming more a
part of the landscape, than
anything else, disappearing
more with each passing moment.
How
is a meaningful life determined? I've never found true meaning or
purpose in mine--
it's always felt more of a severe punishment, than
anything remotely held of
meaning and purpose. Echoes of what a
meaningful life truly means, not something
I have felt personally, in
any regard. I've immersed myself in various avenues of
meaning, for
me, but not fulfilling. Writing holds meaning-- But is it merely a
means
to an end? And if so, then to what end? How do I bring full
meaning to my life?
Feel complete, whole and healed. Where do you
begin, when there is really no
where to go? And life keeps dumping
more and more crap on you to deal with...
where do you find
meaning? And how? And what is the meaning of having to
live your
life on the streets? What is the purpose? And how can my being out
here help others? Because I do believe everyone should experience
what it is like--
even for a few days, which will immediately give
them a much better understanding
of the brutal reality that we have
to endure, year after endless year.... and all the
government and
state employees should be on the receiving end of their ugly
service
when applying for any kind of service. We would be treated so much
better if they did. We would actually be seen and treated as
people-- just like them.
That would really revamp the entire
structure and finally implement services
that are for the people,
instead of more against us, than anything. And not
placed in those
confining narrow minded categories-- slapping labels on us
that have
never fit. Insisting you have to be a junkie, an alcoholic, crazy as
hell, or
just plain stupid the very moment you are put out here,
regardless of how you were
put out-- legal or not. We would finally
be treated with care. Instead of the
nightmarish hell they currently
drag us through for applying for even the
most dismal of assistance,
which is nothing more than a cruel joke.
And
something you do your best to avoid. Rarely do you actually get the
service you need, even less so when you're single, have no dependents
and
have no addictions, and don't do any of that junk,
or chemically
dependent in any way..
just
going through the brutality of the system will make you crazy-- just
not
their “preferred” type. And if you tell them you don't
appreciate being treated
so rudely and so horribly, that brings even
more ugliness out from them. Much
longer waits, even more attitude.
Things you have been waiting to receive,
notifications/mail--
mysteriously disappear, then magically 're-appear' after
the due date
for responding has already passed. Just to name a few.
