I don’t see many of my friends anymore…

The friends I made in the shelter are dying off one by one.

Except for a handful, most of them are gone.

I haven’t yet learned to make new friends; poverty has a way of breaking through the shyness, I guess.

Yesterday, I saw three people I knew. Aged, missing teeth, some still on drugs, all seem to have lost hope of a normal life.

I can tell, by the way they look at me, that they wish that they had my life. As imperfect as it is. For just a day, they want a bed… and ordinary worries, and hope that they will make it.

I hope that they will make it, but it is one tough fight… to fight for your life and get off the streets.


About tjmcfee

Freelance writer. Activist on homeless issues. 48 years old. I write about subjects that need to be examined closely and thoughtfully. The idea for Brain Sections came from reading a book about abandoned asylums. I wanted to set a suspense story in that setting. The inclusion of crazed scientists turning homeless people into zombies is what makes the story unique. View all posts by tjmcfee

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