I was not conceived out of love, but out of a need of a high. She sold her body for a quick fix and in that moment the miracle of life began to form in her body. At the same moment that miracle started, I also started fighting, fighting to survive the poison that ran thru her veins. For nine months I fought to enter this world, maybe even then I had hope of a bright future.
Even after I arrived I fought to survive. She stayed clean long enough to give birth, not for my sake but for hers, for if they found drugs in her or me she would have been take in to jail and I would have been put in foster care. You see I was her meal ticket. She brought me home and she seemed to be overjoyed to have me in her life, even then I had hope she would give me a good life.
As time pasted the poison she once craved came calling again and I saw less and less of her. I would cry out in hunger, for need to be taken care of and in need of love. She had to make a choice and one day she laid me down and walked away. Alone and scared I cried out for someone, anyone to come to my rescue. Someone came, I don’t know whom, but I found myself in a home that seemed nice. I had hope that this is where I could be happy, safe and loved.
This home instead was a place of neglect and abuse. I was a monthly check for them and was left to fend for myself, again alone and on my own. As I grew older I would find myself more and more wandering the streets, looking for a place to belong, someone to care and a hope for a brighter future.
I never found any of that on the streets. I found more hurt, pain, loneliness and an escape from the world that I had once hoped in. I found the demon, the poison that ran thru my mother’s veins. The sweet release of the pain of this world, transporting me to a place with no worries, no pain and the numbness that blocked out the need for companionship or love. So now I follow in her footsteps, I sell my body to acquire a few moments of being released from this world, a few moments of feeling warm and a few moments of being transported to a place where the world seems like not such a painful place to be. A place where I forget about my hopes, hopes that in time will fade.
I now spend my days wandering the streets, trying to stay numb, trying to survive. Funny that this is how I started my life, poison running thru me, fighting to survive and this is how my life will end also. I am once again discarded, not looked upon, treated like the trash that you put out on the side of the road, this time discarded by the world. I spend my days watching you and there are times when I still have that hope I once had. Now it is a hope that one day you will see me for who I am, what I could have been and for the special person I am, but most of all I hope that one day you will look me in the eyes and tell me I matter and I am loved.
All the torment, struggles, pain and abuse I went thru all my life would be worth it if you could just tell me I have worth. When I close my eyes and take my last breath and find myself sitting at the feet of our creator, I want to look up into his eyes and with a smile on my face, I want to tell him of the wonderful person who extended a kind word, put their arms around me and for once in my life told me I had worth, but most of all showed me I was loved. I hope you are the person I will speak to him about. I will be waiting here for you to show me were I can find hope once again. You can’t miss me, there are many of us and we are all around you, you just need open eyes to see us and a loving heart to love us.
A street friend