Here in this street everything’s the same. Here in this street, people treat me with respect. People are afraid of me. Here in this street everyone’s the same. And yet, we’re totally different. We’re all homeless kids with nowhere else to go. But we’re all here for different reasons.
We do anything to survive. Lie, steel, cheat, whatever it takes. The best thing is, here they can’t judge you for it. Because we all do it. And if you don’t do it, you don’t survive. We don’t steel from each other, because we don’t have anything.
Some of us are alone. Some of us have a group of friends. We help each other out. If you have a good reputation. I personally, don’t like to steel or cheat or whatever. I think it’s awful. But I have to do it. To survive. I do it because I have to. If there was another way I would do it, instead of this. It’s an awful feeling when you take what’s not yours, even if it’s for a good reason. Especially when you start thinking of how they worked for it, or how much they need it. I’m the only person that really thinks of that. Some people choose to ignore that feeling. Others feel guilty, but then think of how much they need it. They still feel guilty, but a little less. Here survival is everything.
Jacob and I have been living in the streets for three years. Only with us, it’s different. We’re… special in a way, maybe different. Some say cursed. We’re different from the rest. This happened when we were thirteen. At that age I learned that life is not what it seems. And all that society said that wasn’t real is real…
