FEAR

I wonder about the guy standing in the median strip at that traffic light, or the genuine buskers on the corner of 17th and Walnut by the old Capital One cafe. The one with the sign that says "Made You Look," because they built the new and improved one across the street on the opposite corner. I wonder who among them is, or has been, homeless-even if temporarily. I wonder if they feel or felt the fear and anxiety and the uncertainty. The shakes and the tremors. I realized that when in a situation that can't necessarily be explained, and really isn't truly your fault, there's no one or nothing to turn to. I called a million people desperately wishing they knew something, secretly, about what happened, but no one came clean. I called for help--a place to stay, maybe a monetary contribution, if you will, while seeking a safe place to stay. Some were somewhat receptive, others not so much. I called people who are used to a certain level of wealth--former clients of mine, or MFA school mates. I want to cry over this because I realized, when someone is truly truly homeless, no one really helps. Or, they don't know how to help. And they don't bring you into their homes at least to temporarily help. Instead, referrals to shelters are what I received. Some of the people I called (and I was fortunate enough to have people to call) have plenty of space for the most part. Maybe they weren't sure what was going on and were dubious. Others wanted to talk to me in a condescending way, as if I didn't know you could connect with family services or the police or my own family. Because what happened is inexplicable and one side of my family has absolutely no money, and another person in my family has obligations to another family. I couldn't reach out to them and no way in hell would I tell them I was in this situation. I'm the good kid. The one who doesn't get in trouble. I wasn't really in trouble, is the thing, but inexplicable things happen to people. I found out the hard way that people, of no fault of their own, even with making the best choices in their lives, can wind up cast aside, homeless, scared, afraid, cold and with no one to turn to. No one who would believe it. Believe it. It happens.

I wonder, who among those on the street, the genuine people who find themselves truly homeless regardless of their choices, have no one to turn to. And no one knows what to do. I wonder if other homeless people felt the fear and anxiety I felt racing up and down the streets of a city or town wishing for a call back from someone I put a call into. I wonder who among the homeless knows that others won't believe them. That clearly it's his or her fault to be in such a situation. What if it really isn't? What if other forces are at play, and have been since like the 70s or something.

How does someone who's the good girl wind up homeless and living in a van with all of her belongings until something was figured out? With a landlord who didn't follow proper protocol. If only I  knew then what I know now, but who likes confrontation? With no money and plenty of wealthy people around who are way too skeptical even after trusting this person with their homes.

I wonder about that guy on the median strip, or the one curled up by Gil Travel between 15th and 16th on Walnut. That woman, you know the one, near Ubiquitous--if the store is still there--a block East from the Apple Store sitting next to Dhyana Yoga and American Apparel's building.