Homelessness

Please note; this is not a reflective piece on the community of impoverished people living on the streets. This is about my summer, neighborhood, and nomad status.

I've lived in the ghetto for far too long, something I discovered after reviewing my day yesterday.

Woke up before the sun rose in a room I don't pay for.
Went to work.
Exploded a cockroach with my foot on my porch wall.
Did not scream.
Biked into town to avoid being mugged.
Waited outside of Starbucks for twenty minutes before calling my manager and learning that the shift manager was, in fact, mugged.
Did not bat an eye, as this happened last month.
Got off of work, smelly and tired, sat in a park eating free food and talking to the pigeons.
Biked home, and introduced myself to creepy neighbor who likes to sit on his porch and watch our house.
His name is Richard.
Had a five minute chat with a toothless man name Anuul who moved us into our house while drinking a mixture of "Iced tea, orange juice, vodka and three kinds of rum".
So he says.
Drank some beer, ate some more free food.
Broke into a construction site.
Saw a rat run across the road.
Did not scream.
Heard five possible gunshots outside.
Did not care.
Went to bed with my sometimes homeless boyfriend.

I am officially a North Philadelphian.