My legs are aching with the miles I’ve walked.
My eyes are heavy from the lack of sleep.
I can’t pay attention in any of my classes anymore because I’m more worried about where I’m going to lay my head tonight than my grades.
I’m not sure where I’m going anymore because I’ve gone everywhere twice.
You may see me wandering the streets daily but do you know why?
It’s not because I’ve got anywhere to be but because I’ve got no place to go.
You see me in school with ratty old clothes and a beaten up pack but you brush me off as a kid with bad hygiene.
I wish it were as simple as that .. but it’s not, not in the slightest.
I wash my hair when I can with the soap from restaurants and gas station bathrooms.
I use the sink as my shower.
The clothes I wear are never new or fresh.
They are items I’ve found or stolen.
But I do what I can to survive.
And that’s a hard thing to do when you live on the streets.
Even though we’ve got nothing to give people they still take from us constantly.
I can’t walk down the street at night without being sized up and stared at like prey.
But they’re just trying to survive too.
I could say we don’t have a choice when we become the criminals that we do but that would be a lie.
We all made the choice and we have to live with that every minute of our lives.
We have to live with the fact that we have no place in society.
We are the filth on your suburban streets.
We are the outcasts, the bums, and the minority that doesn’t get a say in anything.
We don’t matter and neither does our opinion because we don’t pay taxes.
That’s true that we don’t pay taxes, but then again it’s also true that we don’t eat, have a job, or a nice home to go to.
You think of unkempt old men when you hear the word “homeless” … but I’m a girl of 17.
I didn’t leave home because I was going through some rebellious teenage phase.
I’m homeless because I couldn’t take another beating from my father and watch my mother hide our bruises and drink the pain away.
I couldn’t get help because I didn’t want the attention.
I just wanted to leave and that’s exactly what I did.
I left on April 17th, three days before my birthday.
I had my things packed and enough supplies to last me a month.
So at 2:36 A.M. I found my chance to escape out my window and walked until my feet blistered and bleed.
I was jumped that night and most of my things were taken from me.
But I didn’t turn back.
I’ve become someone different, stronger and wiser.
I may be homeless and I may be a thief but I don’t regret my choice on leaving.
So as I sleep on the floor of the bus station tonight with my backpack as my pillow, I can promise you I will rest easily and dream of places much better than this.
I’ll dream of walking to Montana, Rhode Island, or Ohio.
Somewhere I can start all over and have a life where I won’t be scared to sleep or whether or not I’ll eat that day.
But until then I’ll just keep walking.
And waiting for something better.