By Matt Wood
I prefer not to focus on the past, I try to live everyday as it comes now, a concept that I took for granted back then, when I was really living. Here, where I am now, where I have been the past year, this isn't living, this is surviving. I am simply continuing to breathe as I watch the countless people who are living walk past. They say that the grass is always greener on the other side, but it's said ironically isn't it? The real meaning behind that saying isn't that there is someone out there enjoying themselves better than me, it's that although it seems that way, everyone has their problems and struggles, and we should be grateful for the positives in our lives instead on comparing someone else's contentment to our own; there is a balance of happiness going on and everyone seems to ignore it. I've always lived by that saying, and you'd think that when the streets became my home, things couldn't get any worse — it truly is rock bottom isn't it? I'm alive though aren't I? I might not be living but surviving is one step above rotting somewhere in a ditch being chewed up by rats.
Besides, I've always been a people watcher, observing little snippets of people's lives has always been a weird pastime of mine. Honestly, I could do it all day, and now I get the chance to! I can be the oddball that I've always wanted to be deep down now, some may look down at me like I'm the canned-up, animal derivative, dog food of society, but I am able to judge them as hard as I please and not feel a single shred of concern or bother; besides what else can I do to pass the time? Hold a conversation with them? I see a toothbrush less than I see a twenty pence piece in my coffee cup.
Deep down, I am hurt. In fact, it's not even deep. All you have to do is look at my overgrown, scraggly mess of a beard or see the sores on my blistered feet to see that my pain is shallow, and that I am a whole world away from what I call happiness.
Life has dealt me a cruel card, and for that I shall never truly forgive Her, but I once heard that yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery and today is a gift, which is why it is called the Present.
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