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I remember being on a pavilion by the boat docks in Biloxi Mississippi. Some kids came by, probably between 5 and 8 years old. I was homeless and probably looked it. A little boy came up and called me a "dirty cracker" and spit on me, and then his sister came up and gave me a hug. The little boy snatched her away, and cussed her out for doing it. That's how it is though. It's not the shade of the skin but the hardness of the heart. I can get a blood transfusion from a Somalian. That's where the rubber hits the road, and that is what people need to get through their thick skulls.
DudeistPriest · M
@puck61 Wow, that's some serious experience.
"I was homeless and probably looked it." As long as I have known you, I wasn't aware of that. I was almost homeless in CA myself and this brings back a lot of memories. I found that basically No One Cares and you're on your own. I had to dig myself out of it and move back to my home state. It took years.
Hope things have gotten better for you. You're one tough cookie. Thanks for sharing.
"I was homeless and probably looked it." As long as I have known you, I wasn't aware of that. I was almost homeless in CA myself and this brings back a lot of memories. I found that basically No One Cares and you're on your own. I had to dig myself out of it and move back to my home state. It took years.
Hope things have gotten better for you. You're one tough cookie. Thanks for sharing.
@DudeistPriest A broken heart, then alcohol, then a kind of trap that I continually set for myself. I got in a program and worked my way back to being a "functional member of society"