I hear them get closer and closer as the porch creaks every step to the door. My heart feels like its pounding through my chest, and sweat is pouring off my face as I sprint in a panic. I hear the key turning and the door opening just as I jump out the window.
Ive been staying in that house for over a week now. Its for sale and real estate agents come by every few days to show it.
Im a light sleeper and Ive been able to slip out before anyone can see Ive been staying there. I have no where to go except the street, mission centers, and buildings I break into.
I make my way to the mission center about 6 miles away. My feet ache and my stomach hurts from what little food Ive had to start the day. I panhandled for about an hour making enough money to last a few days. I arrive at the mission just in time before they quite serving breakfast.
The smell of sausage makes my stomach squirm with desire. I inhale the biscuits and gravy they have served me and wish for more. I dont bother asking for more because I know there answer is no.
I make my way down the road to McDonalds because my stomach still aches from the lack of food lately. Luckily I made over ten dollars panhandling by a freeway entrance for about an hour. I also use their bathroom to wash my face and clean my self up somewhat.
Im a rare homeless man in the fact that most of my peers are addicts. I choose not to involve my self in that scene. I cant afford a place to sleep, so I shouldnt waist what little money I get on drugs and alcohol. I have in the past used drugs but I found myself falling into a deep depression dwelling on where my life has come.
The warm sun feels nice as the heat beats off my skin as I stroll down the sidewalk. I just keep walking thinking of what choices in life have led me to this point Im at now.
My father was a military man and growing up we switched schools every 3 months as he was stationed all over the country. It becomes rough on a kid never having any true friends because of the constant change, but I soon got used to it. I feel not having any childhood friends led me to join the Army just like my father. I was in only in for a couple of years before I was sent over to Vietnam. I have never been the same since because with my return I learned both my parents had passed away while I was over serving our country.
I havent adapted to society since then.
I walk and write my thoughts in a red wrinkled journal I keep in my backpack that a carry everywhere. I have come to the fact of not caring about many things. I go to Safeway and fill my pockets full of donuts with sprinkles, which are my favorite, and proceed to walk out not caring if someone stops me. They wont throw me in jail for donuts and if they did it wont change anything it is just another place to add to my journal.
My day is mostly consumed with writing and pondering many questions that come into my head. Today Im in the center of a park surrounded by trees gazing into the water of a pond just ahead.
Slowly watching the leaves drift to the edge of the pond I question my role in this world and if any one would care if I wasnt here.
Since no one cares for me now thats what drives me to write in my journal so much. So maybe in my mind one day someone will find it and gaze into the poetry and get lost in thoughts which I have concieved. Maybe these questions that come to mind and haunt me will strike something in a reader some day. Until then I continue to put everything I can on paper so that Im no .