Battle
Scars of Life....Living
on the streets
Living on the
Streets... Gives you battle scars for life.
Life cannot be
lived in hate, but only simmered in anger. To truly live in Life,
requires love.
But more and more I am finding love.. is something that is in
rare supply
when life is lived on the streets. And well into decades of life, or
rather the
merest existence of a semblance of life,
on the streets
has turned life dark.
The longer I
am forced to stew and simmer without the comforts,
safety and
warmth of a real home, the darker life has become.
Shadows all I
do. And Overshadows every breath I take, every step I take.
Your life is
wiped from the system in every meaningful way,
you no longer
exist as a living, feeling, breathing human being,
and your basic
Human Rights have been brutally torn to shreds.
You are denied
your right to Vote when you do not have a verifiable residence;
denied your
right to be a citizen in the country you were born into
when you have
no home; receiving any and all mail becomes a challenge,
especially
when you have to rely solely on the Post Office to hold your mail,
which they
toss most of it in the trash, or stamp on it “Refused, Return to
Sender”,
without your
consent for doing so, as you cannot refuse
something that
you never receive.
Life goes dark
when you live every moment of your life on the street,
and the light
at the end of the tunnel has gone out completely.
Your mind
blanks out, and you watch the moments passing you by,
ignoring your
presence. You become part of the scenery,
no longer
viewed, seen or treated as a person.
The reserves
of Hope, Faith and Love that once housed residence
in your heart
has become depleted and dry.
Living on the
streets, scars you in ways that can never be healed.
They are
Permanent and comes through with everything you do.
There is no
separation from who you are and life on the streets now,
because life
on the streets has become who you are in every regard.
Every breath,
every thought, every move revolves around living and breathing
every moment
on the street. Dreams.... about life on the street, cleanup... about
life on the
street, eating.... about life on the street, sleeping.... about life
on the street.
Everything in
life has become about life on the street. Every word, thought,
deed....
all about
life on the street. I can no longer recall what life in a home feels
like.
I can no
longer recall how it feels to take a shower, having hot water to
cleanup in,
cooking in a
real kitchen, sleeping on a real bed... or just being able to simply
BE.
What would it
be like to finally do all I need to in the privacy of my own home??
Things like
cleaning up, eating, sleeping.... anything and everything that has
been on the
world's movie screen for nearly 2 decades now. What a treasured
blessing that
would be.... to FINALLY have the tiniest bit of privacy to do my
most private
things that have been fully on public display for nearly half my
life.
That is truly
one of the dear things I miss completely.... having some form of
privacy,
when cleaning
up, eating, and sleeping, or doing anything. Because everything I
do,
and I do mean
ABSOLUTELY everything, has been on public display, every day,
all night
long. No matter where I go, no matter what I do.
I cannot even
begin to even partially describe what that is like, what it does
to your heart
and soul.... and more importantly, what it does to you as a person.
It is truly
devastating and alters your life in ways you could
never imagine,
and not in good ways.
Days
completely disappear and all days become a single day, that never
ends.
Dates and days
themselves lose meaning. How do you measure time,
when there is
no time to measure? You have no one in your life who cares
whether you
live, or die, or how you day has been. No one to let you know
you matter and
make a difference just by being here. No one
but the cops
ever “check” on you.
Perhaps that
is why most living on the streets have turned to drugs
and alcohol,
smoking and so much more, to help blunt the sharp edges
of life on the
streets. Because living without a home, without any meaning
or purpose,
and just merely existing around the far periphery of society,
rips you open
and sucks you dry. You can only think about where to go next,
what, where
and how you will eat, or when. Is it safe to bed down
here for a
while? Living on the streets is no way to live.
But it is
something I have been forced to do for nearly 2 solid decades.
My life was
taken from me the moment that despicable landlord forced me out,
by and through
his illegal actions because I refused to service him.
And nothing
but doors slammed hard in my face telling me
“I do not
qualify” for assistance.
Yeah, a real
Meaningful Existence.
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