Flashback, moments

On Being Homeless: A Fish Caught In Headlights

I can’t stop remembering those long, lonely, hollow-like walks to the seaside every night. Knowing that I should probably get some sleep but struggling. Knowing full well I could force it, a realisation that prevented me all together from making any serious attempt.

There are times when I miss the absolutely tremendous rattling of silence resounding so deeply inside my own head. It was a distraction from my real life problems. Like the impending madness of being homeless for another day. The fear of failing my best friend and my other friend. I can’t seem to get my head around the strangling nature of responsibility after responsibility, each stacking terrifyingly one on top of the other. However, it was a very simply equation indeed. All of which alluded to the incredibly mundane sum of surviving once again, another dreary day.

There are days where I wish I had done more. Not had been so darn soft. And then there are days where I can now see how hard I worked. But did it really take such a dire situation to call upon me to be more than just my placid self? Just to really get a grip on the person I am. Or, rather, the person I needed to become to live through a situation like that and come out the other side tall, strong and happy.

There will, of course, always be things I wish I could change. And perhaps things I wish had stayed with me. But overall I can say I’m happy enough to continue to live as the residual of what is left of that self. And more than that – to love the foundations as well. The foundations of which I can grow upon.

And so, I am proud. Even if only scarcely so.

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