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 Posted: Wed Jan 31, 2007 6:37 pm
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When the man finally asked what I was doing, I knew that could answer him truthfully.
I am lost.
(groggysleepyhungryelatedwhinydoggedfantasticmiserable)
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
(butidoknowthatidon’tknowanythingaboutthisdamnedspitofnowhere)
And I don’t know how to get home.
I don’t know where home is.
Like all my other hallucinations, this one vanished POOF! leaving me alone in the dark alley, shivering behind some dumpster. You think I’d get ***censored*** tired of all these phantasms. That’s a big word for an addict, ‘specially one as sober as me.
Oh, I know what you’re thinking.
You’re trying to turn your life around. It must make you feel just super.
Yeah buddy. I hate to tell you you’re not getting any brownie points for condescending the dirty druggie on the street corner. I ***censored**** chose this life, you don’t have to agree when I say it was the worst decision I’ve ever made, because it wasn’t. It was marrying that shrew, Monique.
It was losing my damn job to that blonde intern.
Or maybe when I left the apartment I couldn’t afford anymore.
None of it matters, I’m here now, and I’m lost. Not even the high is as good as it used to be; that’s what made the decision for me. I decided to get sober (for a while) because the damn high left me, too. And now, I’m shivering half-crazy behind some dumpster God-knows-where.
Yeah, I’m ***censored*** homeless. I don’t have a car, and no, I don’t have one of those cute ***censored*** shopping carts to carry around my meager possessions. I’m wearing my damn possessions, so what do I need to steal a damn cart for?
Shut up? Okay, I’ll shut up. But I’m sure after you’ve heard me spew all this bitter garbage, that you’ll stop and think before you whine to the damn hobo that the bus is late.
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Posted: Thu Feb 01, 2007 2:11 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 03, 2007 1:08 pm
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