April 6, 2012


Since I have been off of the streets for a while now, I have been dealing with being depressed. And lately the depression has been kicking my ass. I am getting to where I am not wanting to really go out and do things with people, I hate being around other people more and more.

I especially hate seeing people that are in relationships that look happy. But that is the nature of the beast, I can't and doubt I ever will be in a happy relationship with someone.

Most of the things I do are alone. I go to the movies alone, I go for bike rides alone, alot of times I go out to eat by myself, I walk around the mall most of the time alone, you name it I do it alone. I just don't have it in me to try and be social.

Some people say I have improved with socializing the last few years, but secretly it bothers the hell out of me going to events and trying to fake my way through not being afraid of total strangers. I never know what to say around people most of the time and the things I do talk about aren't really that exciting.

I am scared to death of rejection so for me it is a lot easier to hide in my room and not go out. I don't want to risk being laughed at, or hated because I am who I am. And that is a very depressed individual.

April 3, 2012

Shelter life

My first experience with a homeless shelter was in Florida. It's on some property that was donated to Dade County after a hurricane destroyed a lot to the Air Force Base.

Anyway, I arrived the first day at the shelter and like everyone else who arrived there, we had to sit in chairs and wait. We waited for things like assessments to see what are needs are, medical, dental, optical, etc...

I felt like a was cattle being pushed through to the slaughter house. The people running things didn't care to get to know the person they were supposed to be helping, it felt like all they cared about was how many people could they get into the shelter that day. Like they got a prize for getting the most people signed up.

As I went through the process, I noticed that most of the employees didn't care what brought you to the streets, they didn't care what you were about, and I am guessing they really didn't care if you succeeded in life again or not. The way they would snap at people to hurry up, don't do this, don't do that, etc.. It was very frusterating.

When they finally did show that they cared about something it was when they went over the rules of the shelter. They were very passionate about this. And they made it abundantly clear, you fuck up once, you get a warning, fuck up twice, you are gone.

So I got through the process, go my bed in a room with about 75 other men. We all got a bunk. Each of us got one locker by our bunk, but we weren't given a lock. You had to buy your own, so if you put anything in there during the day without a lock, it was your own fault if it got stolen. They made it clear they weren't responsible for our belongings.

We had a huge community bathroom, which I absolutely hated but dealt with. 75 men with 15 sinks, toilets and urinals. There was probably 40 shower heads in one huge shower room. The shower situation was really hard for me to deal with, I am very scared to show my body to anyone, and I sure was terrified to show my naked self to a bunch of men I didn't know.

Breakfast was at 6am, we were all woke up at 5am to start our day, we had to be completely outta the bunkroom by 8am. By 9am if you weren't able to go out and look for work each day, you had to stay inside the facility and take classes. The classes ranged from balancing a checkbook to wiping your ass. Well, maybe not wiping your ass, but it sure seemed like they thought we didn't know how to do anything and that we needed a class to teach us every detail of life.

Also, you had to volunteer so many hours a day if you weren't out looking for work, I chose to work in the kitchen each morning. It got me extra food, and better tasting food, so that was the only real highlight of the day for me. Getting extra bacon.

I met a lot of other homeless people while I was there, a lot of them just told me to fuck off and not to talk to them. Some were very racist and told me that white boy needed to mind his own fucking business or that I would get hurt.

A few that I met were nice, I met one guy from Minnesota, that became homeless because he lost his leg in a traffic accident and had to take too much time off of work. He received disability while he was in the shelter, and he was primarily using the shelter as a way to save money so he could get back out on his own. Him and I became decent friends in the shelter, and then after a few weeks, he was gone, he moved on to his own place.

After he left I basically shut myself off to the world and this was the beginning of me hating the world. Up until that first week of meeting my Ziploc Girl.

April 2, 2012


One thing that bothered me a lot while I was homeless was the constant pressure of the gay men looking for male prostitutes. There is a park in Fort Lauderdale, that is well know for gay men to go to and look for male prostitutes each day.

When I first came to Fort Lauderdale, I had no idea what went on inside of this park. One day I was sitting on a bench in the park and I was approached by a man, at the time I had no idea he was gay. And he asked me if I was from around the area, and other small talk.

Anyway, he then asked me if I was into men? At which point I told him no, and I walked away. I guess he thought I was playing hard to get or something, because he followed me all over the park. Finally I told him to fuck off and he got the message.

The very next day I was sitting in the park again eating food that was given to us by one of the local church groups. And another man came to me and asked me if I wanted to party? Out of dumb curiosity I asked what he meant, and he told me, get high on crack, and have sex all day. Hell no! I got up and walked away.

I avoided the park for a few weeks, and started realizing that not only was the gay guys trolling the park, but when I would be sitting at a bus bench waiting for a bus, they would slowly drive by, roll down their window and smile or flash money at me. One guy went as far as throwing a business card with a $50 bill paper clipped to it at me. I took the money, dropped the card and had a really nice meal on him, thanks sucker.

I am not againts gays. I am however against being pressured by gays to have sex or do drugs just because I was homeless. There isn't any amount of money that a gay man could throw at me that would persuade me to have sex with him.