(83) Homeless Sunday at the library

83) Homeless Sunday at the library

Sometimes, when tears form into droplets in our eyes, the world becomes a blur. All the colors, all the people, buildings and objects lose their shape and merge with the rest of the myriad. It has been observed that this phenomenon can occur not only when terrible events happen.

It is possible to choke up in tears in reaction to the unexpected arrival of long-lost family or friends when help suddenly arrives, or from a life-changing gift. It can provoke this reaction.

We need both to transcend our physical and moral situations. When I came back from my senses, my sight was restored. Snow was blowing in the wind. I was the same individual standing in my tracks. Sometimes when I think of my death, I tend to believe I will never die, in general. When it is myself who contemplates death by my hand, it becomes a tragedy and it is a privileged moment at the same time.

So many people have no warning of their death. If you can prepare for your death, it procures a sense of satisfaction, relief and comfort. The drama is parting with the comfort and joy living has brought to me. I feel the need to cling longer.

On the other hand, all the dismay, pain and hopelessness that burns through the soul beckons and invites me to the grave as a soothing solution. Even though I don't want to die right away, apparently, One day I will, just as we all must.

Regardless of the circumstances involved, we will be pronounced dead at one point. What happens after is up for grabs. No one ever came back to officially announce to the living what awaits us. There are many versions of the afterlife available, but no one has indisputable knowledge of the facts. Despite this, it doesn't deter me.

The unknown becomes a quest. It is certainly more appealing than the constant intense sorrow and preoccupations.

Adults can be abandoned too. I am uncomfortable speaking about it because I fear not being believed. As I discovered, when extraordinary things happen, contrary to popular belief, sometimes a person will not disclose their experience. In my case, I am embarrassed to even try because it sounds so outlandish. Usually, bad people get expelled.

Thanks to the anonymous character of my contribution I feel relieved to reveal the truth. It was revenge..

I worked six nights a week and rushed to school in the morning right after work. I got addicted to methamphetamine pills to get endurance, wakefulness and relief from my intense inner plight.

They truly worked at distracting me from my inner grief and preoccupations. I never needed antidepressants or antipsychotic medication like millions who do because they need to feel better inside. I believe I had a right to feel better also.

Unprescribed medication taken from unofficial vendors is considered a rivalry to the pharmaceutical industry and its monopoly.

The substance itself isn't the real issue. Hospitals and pharmacies have the most different kinds. Some street are rejected because there isn't any medical use, physically. Now hallucinogens , M.D.M.A. and ketamine are used in therapies for depression. It's a question of money

To the point now where organisms exist to keep people on the street in their situation to profit from the services they offer.

They are the official and biggest providers of free drug-use paraphernalia. They act like the lives of the homeless are perfectly normal. They have no story. They have the right to live like that. So they do everything to help them stay on that level. If you are slowing down, they will not help you. If a condom or crystal meth pipe can't save you, then do as in nature and just die.

No one is special anymore. They already have clients who aren't likely to pull through and come back to a job, a place to stay and the ability to cope. Disenfranchised people, and mental illness among others prevent them from maintaining a proper balance over a long period. Those who can, pull through thanks to encouragement and personal determination.

Children can get methamphetamine prescribed for attention deficit! It'll get their face looking up front, but it is a typical reaction to the effects of this drug. They are dazed. Unfortunately, prolonged use creates addiction. The other plus for me was the long duration, and the mind willing and able to focus attentively on each task at hand. Paradoxically, for learning it was not good. My memory wasn't as flexible, more forgetful and I had more trouble in organizing a sequence of actions.

The student colleague I drove to school with had liver acancer and two months to live. When he told me, he was serene. I could tell he was ready. But I exclaimed:

-"Just like that? You're gonna die in two months and that's it"?

I was so angry!

- "Life's a bitch"! I added, furious and taken aback.

Everything I am mentioning happened in the same period. Those were many griefs piling on the other. At school, we have been studying. Palliative care, death trauma and grief. The videos were profound. They truly succeeded in presenting an accurate sample of what goes on and how it feels. I often held back tears. I was haunted and shocked at the level of drama involved. The inevitable nature of it.

Everybody sees a decline and knows what it means. When this level of grief is reached, it may be preferable to take time off from work. The sound of the wind through the leaves and the branches is more present. Some other spirit speaks. It is the threshold between usual daily stress to an area out of boundaries with daily life and that is the existential.

Always present in our lives, our level of attention to it and preoccupation is minimal. Daily life holds much more attention to maintain and make life enjoyable.

I quit my job, I quit school (which caused me to go into shock, I couldn't believe I had done that. I could not think about it, it was urgent to avoid it. The only thing I could do was make music creations on the computer and update the software.

That was a mistake. If I had to go that way again, I would not neglect to make a few close friends with who I have regular contact. I would not quit school or my amazing job! All it did was leave me isolated and in a financially insecure position.

I didn't have the $ 20,000 school bursary anymore nor my $900 and more clear a week in direct deposits. Instead, I would immediately speak to the boss and arrange for a period off work for grief.

I would ask my friends that someone come by at least once a day to break the isolation and for help in making appointments and following rendez-vous. I had difficulty in doing that alone towards the end. I would immediately make appointments with a psychologist in stress -post-trauma.

That is good advice. I learned about what happens in intense states of grief when the level of preoccupation is too high, or too intense on a dramatic life-changing event.

Caught sadly straddling the threshold of emotional breakdown, or being swept away forever by those vast expanses of deep and excruciating despair. It is also on the verge of a continuous and pervasive existential standstill.

Taking advantage of my precarious situation, my family abandoned me. They left and I have not seen them since. It was a brutal amputation. It was forced isolation. They never answered calls or messages!

I felt bad for her when we separated because it reminded me of a drowning cat outside staring in the window and people pulling the blinds not to see. In my case I was a bat flapping at the window and being ignored I finally dropped down into the trash exhausted from intense despair. False reassurances are cruel whip lashes.

From there I wound up in the street for a week. In the morning at 7:30, we had to hit the sidewalk for 12 hours before returning. I sat on a park bench wondering what to do, where to go. People were walking by, going to work, students. I thought:

-” Hey! I used to do that also!” I felt so out of place.

I was so lonely and heartbroken I could feel something inside of me was going to break. Too much grief and sorrow, unaccompanied and alone can break you. It is possible to die of grief or “break" inside. Tears would form in my eyes. I tried not to blink, but still, tears rolled down my face. I remember thinking:

-"What? I'm gonna start crying in public now"?

I was confused about what they did, and how unexpected, total and uncompromising. I was uprooted and still cannot see a future in sight as long as the court is a threat to my liberty. If any, I would want to be a hermit or with my family. I was taken in by my dealer. Some strangers might treat you better than your blood family. It's been two years. It's a life where I had to learn to step out of my comfort zone and learn to do what I didn't before.

II discovered that in many respects, I’m in a state of life closer to the truth. The best of both worlds.The best isn't abstinence, but the balance we have in keeping fully functional, autonomous. It is being responsible all while on chosen moments, indulging in taking drugs with your friends and making love with a lot of different women. There is no morality. There is only a line we draw on how far we're willing to go as an individual in all situations.

Even with the night people involved, with nothing special going on, it is a very colorful, underground and unusual life.

There are good brothers, and there are evil ones. My "evil" is going against anything written in the bible and providing what pleasures people want. The dimension of tragedy and drama begins with some members having on their agenda to falsely accuse people of owing them money and menacing to kill their families if they don't pay is an example. Maybe some deserved it, but not all. unfortunately, many innocent get hurt. Some imagine that the freedom they were searching for when they joined consists of just that. In reality, the only difference with a citizen is brothers in intentionally chose to be unfettered and unbound from the ownership grip of social and legal norms and live on their own.

They have done a lot to help and include me. Membership becomes ever more for life the further you go...I took a two-month leave. That's how I wound up in this pleasant library on a Sunday, my eyesight blurred by tears. I don't know why so many bad things happened these past two years.

I began thinking maybe I was cursed by a black person, for having made racist comments. Either way, I don't consider life unjust. Despite completely incomprehensible things that happen, that's the way life is. Arbitrary and random. The rest is common sense and a game of snakes and ladders. Watch your step!

Maybe nothing bad will happen. Some have a life without notable incidents. But don't be surprised if you suffer without having asked for it. When it does, don't feel sorry for yourself. The only thing that can save you is cognitive therapy and behaviorism. You'll need to change your way of thinking and behave in a way to find and maintain new footing.

What is unfair are the misdeeds that people pull on one another. Regardless, pain hurts. It's alright to fall to one knee, or flat on your back after suffering sword wounds. Author Rudyard Kipling confirms that the big deal is not to lose your head in the process. Only then can you find out if you qualify. It's like an initiation. If you want a person's true capabilities at heart to show, do not mention he is being tested.

A warned person will automatically be less worried. Test someone without prior warning. Just watch and observe what the person does. Will they lose their head? Will they preserve dignity and avoid degrading?

I may qualify, but my future is bleak. I don't think I will last another two months. The law is in the way. I am at a crossroads. Jail or suicide? I got up from the table I was sitting at to borrow a pen at the front desk.

People notice me right away. I am indeed a handsome man with an aura of mystery. But my affiliations show in that people can tell that somehow I lead a different life outside of their boundaries. A kind that is generally not well seen.

Fortunately, I am a gentleman for the population at large. Always willing to lend a hand, always polite and appropriate (In public, I am more laid back alone with my friends). What also shows, and everything about me screamsDon'tDon't mess with me"!

If necessary, I have a murderous rage and do not accept abuse or insult. I live by strict principles and values.

No matter what happens, I want to say that I love life and I hope I live on. I could assist people going through similar situations sort out their options, break isolation and encourage them to move forward. I will live until I die. When? I don't know, if I don't die of an overdose, it'll be suicide. I am an exhausted warrior proud of his scars. I can tell you what hurts but I will only state the facts and not complain. I will live free or die.