Letter to the Editor
Anonymous text to a GSR cell phone the day before Christmas.
“A beautiful city indeed…
I came here looking for my mother after my home burned down in KY. I lost my wife and son. Came here to find out my ma had already passed from cancer. I am alone, broken. I slept under the bridge directly across the street from Burger King/KFC. I didn’t become homeless because I was a criminal, or due to bad life choices. Yet I have mostly seen judgment by those who realize I am homeless. I was broken, in the deepest part of my soul. And most people I have met here viewed me with the disgust warranted to filthy bottom feeders. Yet I feel this is the last link to anything resembling the life I once had.
My mother was born and raised here. I am tired of freezing and sleeping in a tattered tent that doesn’t even keep out the elements. Oh, right, but city workers took my tent a couple weeks ago. Now I sleep behind fast food dumpsters hoping no-one finds me and makes me leave. I was run off by the local police from the bridge. Sleeping on public park property and all that I understood. I started working for a guy who remodels. He let me sleep in his well pump house. It had a heater. But he told me last week he wasn’t able to pay me anymore. So, I have been taking shelter in his well pump house until yesterday. I am sorry if I came across rude earlier. I meant no disrespect. I am just so low, and hopeless. I just want to give up and die. It would be so much easier.
But I know I won’t see my family again. So, I am torn. Well, he gave me until Monday to be out. Right now, I’m in his well pump house. I will have to go back to the bridge tomorrow. I know if they catch me in there I will be in trouble. But I have no choice.”