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.

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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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