July 3rd, 2014, I learned I was going to be homeless if I didn't find something quick. Between family goings on and with the people I was living with having to get me out of their house (I have no hard feelings towards this family at all whatsoever, even though I know 100% for a fact that they still feel bad and they have no reason to), I had nowhere to go and I needed to find a place fast.
I lived with my friend in her dorm room for a few days, the maximum allotted time I was allowed, and then... I was on the street.
Literally.
I had nowhere to go and I didn't have the money to get a hotel room, or stay at a hostel, or anything.
Somewhere in between all of that though, I do remember being in a hotel. The months from May to September are blurry. My bad.
I didn't know where to go, so I camped out at a Starbucks in the town I lived in and grew up in until closing time, stealing their wifi to hopefully find a place. And I never did with the money I had.
I became one of those people that had to sleep in a park. I had no other choice.
And it was hard. It was another thing that made 2014 one of the worst, if not the worst year of my life.
While this happened, I liked a guy. He was really cool. He lived in the state that I lived in while all this crap was going down, and we talked about it. But that I know of, there really wasn't much he could do, given his circumstances and mine.
I was scared. I was terrified. I wanted so desperately to walk along one of the bridges that you drive under when you enter the town I lived in, and jump off it onto the highway below. I wanted to give up so badly. I didn't want to do anything at that point anymore. Giving up seemed like a good idea.
At the same time, I needed brain surgery. I've had problems with my brain for a few years, and I needed a surgery to fix something. My dad and I's relationship was hardly there, and in this current time, we don't talk at all. I've realized this and have come to terms with it a long time ago. At the same time, he was withholding more or less $8,000 of my own money. I asked him time and time again if he could put it in my bank account (note to self: never ask your dad to put money in his bank account) and each time I asked, he told me no.
Around that time, my friend saved me. The one whose dorm room I lived in half an hour away. She saved my life. She risked getting in trouble by smuggling me in her dorm room again because her roommate was going to be gone for awhile. I was able to get in contact with my dad again about surgery.
After awhile... I had the surgery. And I was able to go back home.
July 2014 was rough.
Homeless.
Needed brain surgery.
Guy I liked totally screws me over (who cares).
Going back home.
Healing.
July 2015 is already a lot better, just being three days in. I'm not in contact with my dad and even some of my family members because of things that happened. But I'm strong. And I didn't give up. I have great people in my life, especially the family members who chose to listen to my dad, but also didn't give up on me either. And I have the most amazing friends in the world.
Including the ever popular stud muffin missionary. (he's so cute)
Who, no, isn't the guy I liked this time last year.
#SORRY #NOT #SORRY
I've learned a lot. And I'm happy with who I am. No, I'm also not homeless anymore, either.
And yes, the friend that saved my life is in my prayers every day. I go to bed thanking her, and I wake up thanking her.
Thanks, B. I love you.
I would love to go back in time and tell my old self from a year ago that it's all going to be okay. Because it ended up being okay.
Actually... it ended up being more than okay.
Love you guys.
(PS IT'S MY LAST FULL MONTH OF BEING HERE!)
psps: i'm tryna update my blog layout again - sorry i'm not consistent haha!
xx
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