Thanksgiving 2016

Thanksgiving on the Streets....

Another Fall Day on the streets. 

Thanksgiving Day once more on the streets...
making this my 17th one without a home....and still outside.

When you live on the streets without the comforts a home affords,

 not to mention the warmth and safety; it becomes 

just another day, only more challenging with it being 

a Holiday, and finding places to clean up or use the restroom,

 turn into adventures unto themselves.  

It's a mixed blessing to still be alive and breathing on this day.  

Facing another day on the streets is never an easy task,

 and the longer I am forced to be out here, merely existing

 along the periphery of life, the more it puts a heaviness

 on my heart, the weight of which brings you

 to depths that have no end.

How does one live a life filled with Joy, Love, Excitement, 

and Happiness, when 

these things have never existed to be begin with in their life?

How do you live a life of meaning, have your life filled with purpose,

 when your very existence is barely tolerated, but not allowed

 to be present wherever you are?

A million questions fill my thoughts, my heart....

And still no answers.

I have seen and experienced the worst of life, 

the worst of humanity, as they have repeatedly shown me 

the underside of any good....

There isn't any rude comment, ignorant remark,

 horrible action that I have not been 

subjected to a million times over. 

 I know what true Hell is. 

 I have lived it since birth.

Lived in it, Lived through it, 

and continually immersed within it.

Whatever happened to the "Golden Rule".... Do Unto Others, 

As You Would Have Others Do Unto You?  I have never 

treated others in the way they have been toward me, yet they 

feel it necessary to be as mean and cruel as possible to me for just being present. 

 I am not hurting anyone, not doing anything wrong, or illegal.  Just minding my

 own business, and then they are in my business; calling me names, giving me

 nasty, disgusted looks, calling the cops on me....

 just for being present.

Being laughed at, cruelly mocked, made fun of, ridiculed, and criticized for

 moving in a way they find unacceptable and insist cannot be real.  They are 

beyond cruel.  Being accused of "faking" the way my knees buckle and

 fold with every step I take, every moment of the day where I have the

 unfortunate experience of having to be around people at all, no matter where I go.

Is it no wonder that I absolutely dread having to be anywhere where 

people are.  I dread having to go to the store for food,

 or other necessary items, I hate going to the park where people are

 present, as they video tape the way I walk... 

while laughing their asses off as they do so.  I truly despise having to go

 or be anywhere anymore where people are present, knowing that my every 

move is being watched, commented loudly on, and the 

unwelcome audience my walking brings forth. 

 It is not something you ever get used to.  

And it is really turning me off from being 

around people, in any regard.  Knowing all the comments, 

and remarks that ensue with my every movement.

It wears on you in ways you can never imagine when you

 are not the one on the continual receiving end.

So I am truly Thankful that I have not turned into the kind of person who does

 this to others....Tearing others apart through words and actions.  

And I am thankful to have my stack of books and notebook that keep me 

company in the park on this Thanksgiving Day!

Life.... The Residual Aftereffects

  The Residuals of Life on the streets...

Life is becoming more like a residual aftereffect the longer I am forced to merely exist along the seams of humanity.  Though, exist, is really more than I have been allowed. Being on the streets for so long is eclipsing my life before.  It has literally become my life, who I am now, the person I never wanted to become.  Shadows of what life had once been.... becoming darker in colors and texture, no longer feels a part of my life, but rather something that was experienced in dreams, the images blurring more around the edges, becoming softer and fading where the detection of what was there is no longer visible.  

Many events in life shape, challenge, and define the very essence of who we are. Sometimes the defining moments are not ones we recognize when they are happening or when we are in the center of them around us, but usually becomes apparent in the lull between each other and before the next one takes hold.  Those moments transcribe themselves back to us.  Everything becoming more deeply embedded and incorporated within the threads of memory and every fiber of our being that are pieces and fragments of who we become, though doesn't define who we are, just adds to the whole.

My life has been filled and over-flowing with defining moments.... but nothing more so than my life on the streets...

One of the most defining moments in my life has literally become my very existence.....

and that is being forced to live my life on the streets, facing every day and moment on the streets without a home, without a bed, without a kitchen to store, prepare and cook my own meals, without a private restroom to do my personal and private business....  every moment defining and becoming so deeply ingrained, it seeps from my pores.  I can no longer even imagine what a home feels like. What a real bed feels like, what it is like being able to use the restroom in private without a full-on audience to watch the events unfolding as I clean up on the screen in the publics' eye.  My dreams no longer include a home but more of what life is on the streets.  All my dreams revolve about living on the streets, and the doors being slammed in my face time and again from the places that are "supposed" to be there to help.  Yet, not once has the help and assistance they are there to provide ever once been provided.

My life has been stripped bare of substance, sustenance, meaning....  stripped of my basic rights of a human being, my civil liberties, being denied my right to vote, to serve on a jury (yet, continually receive jury notices to appear), because the government insists on requiring a physical residence, and claiming you are not a "resident" of the county, no matter where you reside, when you do not have those coveted walls circled around you that gives the required numbers and names of the place you live.  Every last ounce of even the tiniest shred of privacy, destroyed and removed entirely from my life. So, the defining "moments" have become every single moment I continue to draw breath.  

Life becomes habit forming, a habit that cannot be broken.  A habit that requires endless endurance, while at the same time is so completely draining on so many levels.  Life on the streets is its own reality, and when you get caught in that reality.... it is one that takes hold and refuses to let go.

For nearly 2 solid decades, that hold has tightened like a noose around my neck.  And everywhere I have gone for help, only tightens the noose with increasing efficiency.