The Diary of A Homeless Romantic



Dear Diary,                                                                                                                          October 16, 2009

I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. This was reminiscent of the time when dad bought me those candies. They were delicious. They were even better because I didn’t expect them. I was coming home from school one day. I had to be about 5 or 6. He had it wrapped up neatly and tied with a pretty purple bow. I couldn’t wait to get to school and show the other kids what my daddy had bought me. But things didn’t go the way that I had planned. I was robbed. Karen, the class bully stole the candy right out of my locker. I’m not sure how she got in. Maybe her lock had the same combination. But it was more likely that the key she used unlocked my lock too. The lock didn’t cost much at all. No wonder, it was so easy for her to steal from me.

The same way that she took my candy, she’s trying to take the man of my dreams. It’s been ten years and she’s still taking things that don’t belong to her. She should be ashamed of herself. I know that they taught us to  share when we were in school, but I never thought I’d have to share the love of my life. No one should have to do that.

James has no clue that I like him. He’s the most popular guy in school. Everyone wants him. But this is different. We’re friends. He looks out for me and I help him with his homework. I’m not allowed to date, so I don’t. But he spends time with me anyway.  Usually, we’re somewhere public. We’re not alone too often. But I guess we’re not supposed to be.

Karen has no remorse. She couldn’t care less about how I feel. She just wants to make sure he sees her. She does things that even my mother wouldn’t do. I’ve watched her bend over in front of James in skirts as short as her attention span. She lets him look onto her papers during tests.

I’ve never liked small skirts. Mama always told me that boys value what they don’t see more than what’s thrown their way. I make him work for the answers to tests. Why give him all the answers when I can teach him how to come up with them on his own? She’s known as the easy-going girl. Ya know, easy… going… Everyone seems to notice this but him. Boys can be so naïve.

He deserves better than that. Hell, I’m better than that. I hope he sees it. Maybe he only sees me as a friend. Maybe we could be more. I guess I’ll never know as long as Karen is around. She will keep throwing herself at him and he will never notice little ol’ me. I refuse to be that girl. If that’s what he wants, maybe they deserve each other.




Meanwhile ma is having another one of her episodes. They seem to be getting worse since we lost the house. I’ve officially been homeless for 32 days. I haven’t slept in my own bed for 42. Some men in white suits came and took that first. Then they came for the car. Before you knew it, all of our clothes and furniture were outside. Ma said that we ran out of money. She hadn’t worked in a few months. She would leave the house as I left for school but it wasn’t for work. I wish she had told me what was going on. I may have been able to get a job working at the grocery store or a fast-food joint. I just hate that her anxiety affected her ability to talk to me.

We’ve been living in a homeless shelter for women. The people there are okay. I don’t talk to them much. I’m rarely there. I hate seeing ma like that. I spend most of my time at school and hanging with James. His mom is cool. She lets me come over whenever I want. I don’t stay long. Ma told me to never wear out  my welcome. I usually go back to the shelter around 10pm. Then I go to sleep. I wake up around 5:30am, shower, and go to school. I come back to the shelter, go to sleep and do it all over again. It’s a constant cycle that I’m just about sick of continuing.

Ma hasn’t done much since we lost the house. She’s been depressed. She doesn’t talk anymore. What’s going on in her head? Why won’t she talk to me? She stays at the shelter most of the day. The shelter provides meals, even if she rarely eats them. All she does is sleep. If she got out more, she would probably feel better about herself. I don’t even want to see the place, let alone stay there all day. Thank God for school. Hopefully things will get better. Maybe I’ll get a job. Living homeless and free is definitely not a good look. No one wants that kind of freedom, if they can help it.