Cold Gray

If you've never slept outside on the ground in the winter in Maine, I suggest never trying it.  It's hard and cold and there's snow everywhere.  I'm afraid that if my clothes get wet they'll freeze and that'll be the end.  Problem is nothing is dry out here.  I made it into town last night and tried sleeping under a bench.  That's what I've seen homeless people do in movies though I'll admit there aren't many in our area so I can't think of any kind of shelter I could go to.

It was slightly drier down there, but I woke up dusted in frozen mist.

I have never been more cold in my life.  I had resolved not to go to the police and to lie low since people were bound to have noticed that my house burned down and with me having a criminal arson record I didn't want to answer their questions.  Especially about what happened to my mom.  I just can't take them thinking I killed her.  And they would.  They'd be stupid not to.  I'd go back to the Hospital and be stuffed full of drugs and become the next jabbering Graham to ruin some poor kid's life and then end up a pile of organs in a cold gray cell with no one around to care beyond thinking that it's strange.  I can't do that, I can't.  Something about everything I've gone through has to mean something.  I have to achieve something, just one thing before I die one tiny stupid thing...

Calm down, I need to calm down.  Panicking won't accomplish anything.  Tell the story, where was I in the story?  Oh yes.  I woke up, more cold than I have ever been in my life.  I had resolved not to go to the police, but I almost turned myself in just to be promised some warmth and a bed.  Instead I invaded a coffee shop and snuck into the bathroom and holed up in a stall.  I drank from the sink and dried my clothes and ate some goldfish and basically hid from the world.

That's where I am now, but I can't stay here much longer.  The shop's going to close and they'll sweep for people back here.  Besides, I'm nearly out of goldfish and still my stomach betrays me with grumbling.  I've been trying to trick it by chewing this same piece of gum for the last three hours or so but by now it's not food so much as repetitive motion.

Tomorrow I have to brave the cold and starting begging for money.  Tonight I have to find somewhere to sleep that has a roof.  

It's almost laughable.  I thought, having been tortured by a cannibal, pursued by a monster, that my life would at least be interesting if not meaningful.  But after all of that I what, freeze to death?  Die of the flu?  Starvation?  People wouldn't even marvel at my corpse.  Oh look, a poor homeless boy.  A statistic in the system.

I'd almost rather be ripped apart.

one way or another, I'm not going to last much longer out here.