Epitaph to a Life

This came to me as I was walking around the streets of San Francisco. I was in between jobs, lonely, and feeling very small in that big city.

Multiple picture windows down a long wall. Rain steady and strong.  Only an occasional car whisking down the street.  Walking for hours,  and soaked clear through.  Spot the windows,  knowing you don't want to look.  Helpless to avoid it. Bright lights.  Beautiful decorations.  Happy, smiling faces. Drinks raised,  food savored.  Laughter.  Light kisses on the cheek. The looks of people in love. Stopping.  Looking.  Watching.  Knowing it will only deepen the wounds. More helpless than ever.  A shiver wracked body. Sadness overwhelming. A thought. Depressing and deep. "Do they see me?" "Do they know I'm here?" An answer of sorts. A young boy looks this way. Brow furrowed and a questioning look on his face. Then it passes as quick as it came. The sadder question floats up from those inner hurts, "Does it even matter?" "Would it make a difference if I was here or dissappeared?" I would notice of course. I always do. I see everything and everyone.  Face pressing the glass. Trying to be seen now. Sideways glances. Furtive smiles, quickly looking away. Yes. They do see, though obviously don't want to. Next window. Same results.  Emptiness gaining ground. Becoming an intense physical pain. Growing in the chest.  Down the arms. Knees getting weak. Buzzing in the ears. Sidewalk rushing up. Twitching. Moaning.  Foamy spittle in the corners of his mouth. Darkness at the edges and getting darker. No longer feeling anything. Anywhere. No faces have turned to see. No notice taken of the scene outside. His aswer now given as he fades completely away. A car finally stops, though it's too late. They call 911 and await the authorities.  Flashing lights and now faces at the windows.  People stare and point.  A few drift out to give their account.  A few others talk quietly. One voice says,  "While it's sad to die that way, it would have happened anyway. The streets are no place to live."

A wonderful epitaph to a life...

Homelessness is a b***h, and there is more than one type of homelessness.  The physical is the first thought of. There is also homelessness of the heart. You have a house, you have a car, a job, friends... but you have no place for your heart to belong. You can smile,  laugh, and carry on as if all is great. Yet inside you are in pain and dieing...

Author's Note

Open to all friendly criticism.

Reviews

[Jennie Lynn]

Wow. Really first thing that popped into my head. When I was 16 and first started reading 'grown up' books I fell in love with Camus, Sartre, Kafka, even Ayn Rand. You have a similar voice. The present tense is perfect and I love the shorter sentences. It's very stream of consciousness. It's a perfect example of show don't tell. You actually say very little but everything is there. I wish I had more to say. I really loved it; I read it twice. I'll think on it some more. This one will stay with me awhile.

[Kent]

Wow, thank you. That really means a lot. :-)

[Jennie Lynn]

No problem. If you have anything else I'd love to read it.

[Kent]

I have a few on an old laptop I'm trying and hoping to revive.. I need to get the juices flowing and start something new.

[Jennie Lynn]

I once read waiting for inspiration to write is like waiting for a train at an airport. It made sense to me. Smetimes I sit down and there's nothing in my head and the first page or so that I put down is crap. But then it's the act of writing that gets me going. Just a thought.

[Kent]

That's a great idea. :-)