Now I lay me down

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I am number eleven. On the wait list for a bed. Fingers dry and cracked from the fridge temps. My face is sunburned and my lips are so chapped I can’t speak with out painfully salty tears rolling down my parched cheeks. It was never supposed to be this way. I was never supposed to be here. Fourteen months ago I left the only home I had ever known to chase my dreams of acting. My whole family; they loved me. I knew they didn’t want me to go but they did a damn good job of being supportive of my stupid dream. My contact disapeared along with the rent money I had wired before I even got to this dream killing town. Determined to make my way, I told no one of the first failure at adulting. No place to stay? That wasn’t going to stop me. I would figure it out. Except I didn’t. I went on auditon after audition. Cleaning up at the YMCA before each audtion. Nothing. Not one call back. I finally found a job busing tables but that didn’t last long. Turns out you can’t stay somewhere that you report your boss for sexual herassment.

The first time I found myself standing inline at the mission I made a game of it. I pretended I was going on an audition. I played that character to near perfection. The mission staff believed me. Even if I refused to believe I was actually in need of the services they offered.

I am almost always hungry. I can’t be picky about what I eat or when. I’ve had to stomach some disgusting stuff all in the name of nurishment. The sadness on these streets hangs heavily in the air. On days its especially bad my throat and eyes sting. The disappointment, dispair, and danger permiate my very thin sweatshirt and paperthin skin. Today I lost my last hair tie, I searched for that thing like it was my long lost dog. It was then I knew I had enough. Now I can’t even put my dirty, greasy hair up. My hair just sticks to the side of my face as the wind whips around me. I am done! I can’t do this anymore. This is not anything I thought it would be. I have been too proud to admit defeat. The stories I have woven through the weekly phone calls with family is so stretched out I doubt I will be able to wash enough grime off to regain my sense of self. As soon as I get into the mission, I’m cleaning up. I’ll eat the meal they kindly offer and then I am going to call my parents. I think I will make it short and ask for a bus ticket home. The bus ride will give me time to rehearse my “I don’t want this dream anymore” speech. Home. I am doing home to clean clothes, hot water, food, my clean bed! but mostly. I am going home to forget about this whole terrible experience. #prose #homeless #pride #defeat #family