Why do I care? Why do I care what happens? I am not part of this society. Why should I care?

When I was homeless, I shoplifted — a lot. I need to get money somehow.

Do I think it was wrong?
No.

Do I feel bad about it?
No.

I knew I wasn't part of society, so I wasn't bound by it's rules. I never stole from people, just corporations. That was my own rule. Yes, things probably would have been easier if I had taken my friend up on her offer of teaching me the art of pickpocketing on Newbury Street. But I didn't. Some strange moral, even than, stuck in my head. Why should I have cared? The average tourist is merely inconvenienced by pickpockets, while my life would have been so much easier.

Through the years I've found a place to live and I actually found a few employers that would hire me. I never made the money that I should have, but that was okay. I felt, maybe, in some small way, I was part of society.

But now, with things falling apart again, inside and out, I find there is no support for people like me. If it weren't for a few of my friends, right now, I'd be on the steets again.

I feel them.

The streets are always there in my mind.

The endless roads

The cold nights

The dark hours.

The fear

Losing lots of time. Not knowing what was where

Always confused.

That was a dark time.

And I feel it knocking again.

I know Lake would never let it happen

But I feel it knocking.

Knocking

Knocking