The Philosophical Musings of a Homeless Man

When I think back to those times when I was needed, it is with a sense of deadness. I can't let my emotion in otherwise it will drown me, like it has in the past. It leaves me floundering in its force and its relentlessness, gulping and gasping. I struggle to face its onslaught. It's always present, at the periphery of my consciousness. It's waiting to find its way in.

And so I kill it.

Like I've been trained to. It's survival.

I learnt early on that there's no value to life. There can only be value where there's worth and I was worthless. I'm not the only one who does not see life's sanctity. I learnt that too. But things can be unlearnt.

Past lessons, however, remain. They are indelible, like bad tattoos, deeply marking you, under your skin. The trick is to keep the skin roughened, thick like a rhino hide, so that they are not seen clearly.

But inevitably, they do resurface. People talk about the buoyancy of good times but bad memories float better, like the thick slickness of an oil spill. If I do find my mind wandering back to my past, I shut it down, like a metal screen on a jewellery shop window.

Only sometimes those memories are armed with angle grinders.

I don't know who I am. I have played many parts in life: victim, son, lover, killer. I veer between believing that this is the life I have been given and the idea that I am able to carve a better existence through my continued presence on this earth. This is the only reason I've not gone yet. Things have to get better.

Today was a bad day.

I try to keep to the shadows. This is where I feel most comfortable. But destruction and man's inhumanity to man can find you anywhere, even when you're cowering in a shop doorway.

"Leave me alone!' I shouted.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

But they didn't. Just spurred them on.

And the irony? Two-fold.

I don't want to be alone or left but it seems that society has no further use for me.

I fought for their freedom to do this.

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366 words

Interesting story. I found the bones of this in my drafts and think that it was something that I started for a challenge, got interrupted while writing it, moved on to another idea, forgot about it. That happens sometimes. Not often but sometimes.

When I did find it again, I liked what I'd written and thought that I could adapt it for a different purpose and so, now, here it is delivered to you, new and improved for your delectation.

Homelessness makes me sad. Homeless veterans make me sad. Abuse of the homeless makes me angry. I don't know their stories but I can't imagine that this one is too far from the truth. I don't agree with war but I do think we should take care of those who stand up to defend us.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do drop a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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