A life worth living

My life before I ran away looked perfect, a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, a decorated officer as a dad and a stay at home mother. But if you looked closer you could see the imperfections. You would see that the beer in our fridge would only last for a couple of days. You would see my mother, always trying to keep my dad happy. And you would see the burns on my skin, where the cigarettes had left there mark. But you would have to look hard, to see these imperfections. They weren’t on the surface, they where kept hidden like a deep dark secret.


3. I needed to score

I was sitting on a curb, in my part of town. The part that normal people would avoid, it was filed with people like me. Homeless.  Everybody here had his or her own history, their own story to tell. In the beginning I was scared of them, until I realized I was just like them. I was not anything special. There were maybe hundreds of homeless sixteen year olds, just in this part of town. I looked around, to see if there were any newcomers. People who were new to this area, or tourists who had lost their way. The reason I was looking, well I was craving. Let’s not sugarcoat it, I needed to score some weed. It had been two days since, my last fix and I needed to score now. I was too poor to be a real addict, so I could go a couple of days without the craving. But now the trembles and the headache were starting again, and I needed to score soon. I got in to weed when I was thirteen, three years ago. I was hungry and still learning to survive. When I got high, I stopped caring and that’s what I liked.


He seems like a good choice. I spotted a white man in his fifty’s, he had his wallet in his back pocket, and it looked filled with cash. He looked like a very easy target, and like he wouldn’t miss the money. That always helped moral wise, too know you weren’t doing real damage. I got up from the curb and started walking in his direction. He was walking my way, and we got closer and closer. My heart was raising, even though this wasn’t my first time stealing. I innocently bumped in to him, and we both mumbled “Sorry” but walked away pretty fast. I was standing with his wallet in my hands, and started to go trough it I never took credit cards but I did take all the cash. Not a long time after that I had scored, and still had some money left. I had rolled my self a joint, and I was sitting on a park bench smoking it.  I liked the way it made my head all fuzzy, and sometimes I would just start laughing.


I guess I fell asleep on the bench, cause that’s where I woke up. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but hey that’s pretty normal for me. I rolled the little plastic bag, the one that contained the weed and put in my inside pocket. I really didn’t want it to be stolen, or lost. I sat up on the bench, and looked at the park. I saw Jolly walking by. We politely smiled at each other, but then she walked away pushing her shopping card filled with bottles and other kinds of trash.  I’ve know Jolly a couple of years, she is a bit crazy but nice to talk to. Before she lost everything, I think she was a suburban housewife. That’s just the vibe you get from her, she talks very high-class and hold her head up high. I like her, she is a very classy homeless. If there is such a thing. She never steals or does anything illegal, she collects bottles or beg for money. And that counts as class, when you are homeless. 

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