The Hopeless Walk of Life

The cement under my feet is the only constant of which I can depend. I wander along the busy streets observing the steam escaping from the underbelly of the city through the vented manhole covers that hide the secrets of a functioning, well-tuned metropolis.

These last six years, living on the streets, have paralyzed my physical and mental well-being. Losing my job intensified all my ills, including my addiction to alcohol, to a point of self-destruction. I even gambled away all of my liquid assets to achieve that designated goal of financial freedom; needless, to say, that did not happen.

My home went into foreclosure, and my wife and children went on to find a more suitable, more stable place to live without me. My life was in a downward, hostile spiral where I lived in comfortable darkness and isolation.

All those whom I knew and loved had depleted all of their resources, emotions, and support to try to bring me back to the life I once lived. I denounced their efforts to help me and, therefore, rid myself of their existence.

How did I get here? I listlessly walk along the crowded, city streets, clutching my thin jacket to my small frame, where I ever so slightly and quickly look into the eyes of the random passer-by. Some are gentle in their return gaze but most look fearful and repulsed.

I can no longer live under the pretense that, someday, life will return to normal; it is a farce, not a reality! I must come to the realization that not all things in life turn out for the best; well, not for me, anyway.

My struggle and survival have become a nuisance and laden with too much responsibility. I must let go and allow myself to be free of all my turmoil, pain and suffering. I no longer have the will to continue this journey, literally and figuratively; I notice my strides are becoming more stringent and my future more muddled and obscure.

I travel the same streets, see the same places of business, and recognize the same families and neighbors that gather outside of their homes to compare their day’s different events. There, in the midst of sameness and difference, I seek out my place of solitude and seclusion.

Here in the darkness, that envelops me, and in the silence, that seems deafening, I lie down, out of sight, on the harsh and solid concrete that releases its icy blanket beneath me. There are no lights to illuminate my existence so I nestle back into a fetal position, from whence I came out of my mother’s womb, allowing the cruel, cold elements to claim me. As I feel the life draining out of me and the numbness traveling through my extremities, my heart rate slows, along with my breaths becoming shallower; I gratefully welcome the long, deep sleep that will finally take me to my celestial home that is not associated with these lonely, unforgiving streets.