I was Thinking, or Not

At the end of the day, homelessness means nothing to me.  Of what use do I need a home, I have no family, I have no friends, and only my words keep me company.  I can always climb back into the bottle and practice the great art of slow deliberate suicide by bottle. It is the love of my life, my beautiful and caring wife Arleta who I strive for.  If not for her I would not most likely be here today to write this, and there are plenty of people who would most likely prefer it was that way. I read the comments, go to social services, or other such services, you don’t think we didn’t consider that.  Even though it pains me to do so, we have, but they have no help for us, especially for us to move away from the services.  The pure ignorance that I run into all the time just makes me ill.  You all say you can’t help others, but you will gladly go to your local church and put $10.00 every week into their coffers.  For what a chance at salvation, reall...

From: Letters to No One in Particular These friends that you speak of, yes I know them quite well… they are an illusion to me now. I still think of “friends” that were friends once upon a time, far far away.  I see their lives play out on the screen from the safety of my monitor, alive, but barely living.  Why haven’t we kept in touch, what has changed all that much, I can not say, but it was a long, long ways away. Ah, but I have reached out, here and there, the occasional call, a casual hello, maybe even a conversation sometimes, that will lead to an agreement to meet sometime, but it will never be arranged.  We are all too busy with our lives.  We have all changed, and grew away from that time, we remember, if we choose to, but most of us choose not to, it wasn't all that pretty even back then. The last time we met, I was too strung out to forget, or I was too sober to compete with anyone’s bet.  There were a couple of times I do not regret,...